


Like a Living Human

by somanyfeels



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Anxious Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Autistic Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Deserves Happiness, Creepy Elijah Kamski, Father-Son Relationship, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Good Parent Hank Anderson, Human Trafficking, Not Kamski friendly, Past Child Abuse, Protective Hank Anderson, Rentboys, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Prostitution, Undercover, character ages arent canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-07-15 11:24:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 75,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16062104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyfeels/pseuds/somanyfeels
Summary: Hank didn't like these kinds of cases.  He would take murder and drugs over human trafficking any day, especially when he needs to go undercover to a strip club to make contact with one if the victims.  Hank had no idea why they picked this kid, who seemed so calm and indifferent to his situation to want to help Hank.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is NOT a Hank/Connor ship fic. I don't hate the ship, but that's just not this story. It's not the story I need to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stripper/prostitute au no one asked for.

Hank didn’t normally work these cases. He was usually staring at a corpse, lifeless and bloody with a track that lead to a killer, not looking up at some skinny kid in a sparkly outfit twirl up on a pole. He investigated murders, not prostitute rings. He only agreed because it was at bar.

Reed had insisted. He had been working the case for along time and he needed someone with a fresh face to avoid suspicion. It was carefully planned, Hank had never seen him work so hard on a case, to the point here Hank had a specific dancer he had to reach out to. He focused more on the drink than the boy. He was skinny, eyes drifted around warily, dance was slow and tired. Hank didn’t like working these kinds of cases.

He was supposed to order a certain drink, talk to a certain guy, and point out the boy he had spent almost an hour drinking and watching. He watched a man walk up to the dancing boy and whisper something to him. He got a pat on the arm from the bartender and told to go down a hallway. Hank didn’t like to work these cases, almost all the time its around a bar and for the sake of blending in he blends in. He paid more attention to the drink than the mess of stairs, hallways, and doors.

At the end of it he was where Reed told him he needed to be. Alone in a locked room, some dancer sitting on the bed, jumping to his feet.

“Hi, I’m Connor.” The boy spoke way too fast, but seemed to manage to slow down and soften his voice. “I’m here to make sure you have a good time.”

Hank guessed the kid to be in his mid to early twenties, average height, smaller build. So that didn’t help Hank understand the case, he wasn’t a minor, he didn’t seem to be in danger. He was smiling. He was pushing up on his toes. His face was leaning in and his eyes falling closed.

Hank put his hand on the kid’s shoulders and pushed him down. Connor’s eyes blinked open and he rocked back on his heels, it made something uncomfortable click in Hank’s head. He looked confused.

“No, I’m not here for sex.” Hank said. Connor’s eyes widened a bit. The eyes were the only thing that changed, every other inch of his expression was flat.

“I will pose for drawings and paintings but photography is against the rules.” Connor said, the words coming off sounding even and calm. That almost felt like an alarm started going off.

“What? Fuck, I’m not some weird hooker artist.” Hank said.

“Light bruising is permitted but cutting, burning, and any scaring are forbidden.” Connor said. Hank understood why Reed picked him, rather upfront.

“Okay. Right. So this is how it is.” Hank hated working these kinds of cases.

Connor pulled back, moving onto the bed. Hank closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in slow and steady. Great, now he was involved. He had a hooker case in a bar and he had some skinny, flat voiced, kid telling him it was okay to hurt him. He looked over at the bed and grimaced. Connor had laid out on his stomach, his chin pillowed under his arms, staring patiently at the headboard.

“No, not that. I’m not here to hurt you, jesus. I just want to talk tonight. Just talk.” Hank said. “Tonight I’m just… lonely.”

Reed had somehow picked the most awkward and relaxed hooker to try and reach out to because the boy just nodded and moved to sit back up on the bed, patting the mattress beside him. Hank hated these cases.

Hank had no idea what to say. He never thought hard enough on what to say when he actually had the hooker in the room. Not when he was undercover. He knew what to say when he was on the street, being a cop, not buying some kid at a club.

“You know it’s not often men come because they want to talk, but it’s always nice and they always want to sit next to me.” Connor said. His hand tapping softly against the bed. Hank hated going undercover on these cases. He strolled over to the bed and sat down, his back turned to the kid. He needed anther drink. He was relieved he was in a bar.

This kid was too calm about all of it. Anything Hank wanted seemed to be fine with him as long as it wasn’t against the rules. These cases never come out happy. Of course Reed called him in on this, he wanted to drag Hank into a mess with him.

“If you didn’t want to sleep with me then why did you watch me dance for so long?” Connor asked. He sank back into the pillows, laying out flat and straight, ankles folded over on top of each other. “Did you think I was pretty?”

“I don’t know. You just seemed, I don’t know some annoying shit in my head said it would be a good idea to be here talking to you.” Hank wanted a drink, a quick look around the room and he saw nothing, just a few random pieces of furniture and a doorless entryway to a bathroom. It felt small in here.

“My dancing must have had quite a first impression then. Did you come here just to watch and talk?” Connor’s fingers tapped a tuneless pattern against his chest.

“I don’t want to go into details about why you were picked. Just enjoy the hour I got you silently please.” Hank said. He put his face in his hands, letting his mind drift hazily through the liquor to try and make sense of the case. The kid didn’t seem scared or even sad, he just seemed resigned and maybe a bit tired. This probably wasn’t the life he had originally expected, but he doesn’t seem to be arguing against it. Still, the way he calmly said it was okay to hurt him just as long as he didn’t scar him. Pain was fine, just as long there was nothing physically left behind.

Usually in human trafficking cases, the victims are frightened, or at least cautious. Connor was none of that. He was just calm and tired sounding. Perhaps he wasn’t a victim, perhaps he was just a hooker in a club that Reed was investigating. This could just be a mistake. Hank didn’t work these cases enough to know what signs to look for. Hell, he would even take a drug case over this. He would rather deal with addicts trying to work through a story than this. The room smelled musky. There wasn’t even a window.

“Do you have a dog? You have some fur on your jacket.” Connor said. Hank lifted his head and looked back at him. “I like dogs.”

“What do you know about dogs? You got one at home?” Hank said.

Connor frowned and shook his head. “We aren’t allowed to have pets here anymore. There’s not really a place for us to take them to use the restroom. I wasn’t here yet when they were allowed anyway.”

“Okay, but that’s here. Of course your damn dog isn’t allowed at work, just get one for home.” Hank said. He leaned his back against the headboard, trying to get a bit more comfortable.

Connor didn’t say anything, Hank watched as his eyes drifted around the locked room. Hank’s eyes followed where the boy was looking. There was nothing. Not a picture on the wall, not a single plant or knickknack. Hank saw a sweater hanging on the side of the dresser and he wondered if there were more clothes inside it. He wondered about the half empty bottle of lube sitting no the end table and carefully pulled open the drawer to peek inside at what was kept by the bed. Condoms on one side, random objects on the other. A purple pen, a quarter worn on the edges, a bunch of hair ties, and a small figurine of an elf or something. Hank closed the drawer without a word.

He got up off of the bed and wandered to the bathroom, his stomach sloshing around with the movements and alcohol. He was going to throw up soon. The bathroom was clean, but it didn’t help the broken tiles and mold in the grout of the shower. Hank opened the cabinet and frowned at the toothbrush and half empty tube of toothpaste, rolled up at the end carefully. Hank definitely was going to throw up.

Connor was still sitting on the bed when Hank came back. He was twiddling with his thumbs and staring off at nothing. Hank cleared his throat. He had taken a minute to rinse his mouth out with water and now it was dripping down his beard.

“Is my hour up?” God, Hank hoped it was up.

“No, but you’re free to leave whenever you feel done, though you won’t be refunded for unused time.” Connor said. He glanced over to him for only a moment before looking back at nothing.

“What will happen to you once I leave?” Hank asked. He knew, it was barely after midnight. The kid would go back down and keep dancing until someone paid for another hour.

“Does it matter?” Connor said.

Hank shrugged. “I guess not.”

He knocked on the door and he heard the click of the lock, the air felt less stuffy when the door flew open, less suffocating. He stepped out and almost immediately the door was shut and locked again. Hanks eyes lingered on the doorknob, giving the woman who locked it a short nod. When he walked away he felt a hand grab his shoulder and squeeze.

“He was good right? A sweet thing. One of our cheaper boys. Come back anytime.” The woman said with a soft smile and handed him a card. Hank shoved it into his back pocket without a word. He wanted to get out of here.

Reed picked him up as soon as he walked out, in a taxi with dark windows and a hat pulled low over his head. Hank slammed the door after climbing in. Reed looked back with a sideways grin and nodded. “Fucked up right?”

“That shit was fucking odd and uncomfortable. Answer me this first, does that kid live in that room?” Hank said.

Reed looked back at the road, pulling away from the club. “Probably, I told you it was human trafficking. You honestly think they would let the victims out of that place? Its how it is at other clubs. Every club I checked out had none of the dancers being seen coming or going, you think all the money thrown their way would mean they go out shopping, unless they don’t actually get the money and they’re not allowed out.”

Hank looked back down the street. From the outside the club looked like a regular dive bar, a neon sign showing that they were open, all the windows blacked out, the building looked about ready to crumble from the outside. How many people were locked up in there?

“God dammit Reed, you know I hate these kinds of cases, I should kick your ass for this. Now I’m involved.” Hank said. He needed another bar. “Why did you pick that specific dancer?”

“I have an anonymous source who says that if anyone in that club will open up, it’s him. You just have to get him to trust you.” Reed said.

“An anonymous source.”

“Yes. They’re only anonymous to you. Believe me, the intel is legit.”

“Okay but still. That dancer won’t trust me. I honestly don’t think there’s anyone in there.” Hank said, tapping his temple. Sometimes trauma did that to people, just shut them off, and Hank knew that a lot of times they just don’t come back. “He doesn’t give a shit about what’s happening to him, he won’t be much help.”

Reed had pulled onto Hank’s street, stopping a bit forcefully in front of his house. “Anderson, I’ve been working this for a while, I know if you can get your shit together and get that man to trust you he will give us everything we need. Please, don’t fuck me on this. So much of it is off the books that if you fuck this up I might lose the whole case.” Reed said quickly. “This kid will open up. Figure it out. Think it over, you’re going back next week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More will be revealed about the case and about Connors situation in later chapters, this is just the initial meeting. This is in a human au, so no androids.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this is a new story and all my excitement is with it I was able to get the next update finished fast. Don't expect this to happen every time.

The only person who had all the details on the case was Reed. He had been organizing it for months and, although Hank was the superior officer, Fowler told him he had to follow Reed’s lead. The only reason Hank agreed was because he would be working in or around a bar and he didn’t have to do a lot of paperwork. Something about the case was so sensitive that it was of the books.

And Hank’s only job was to get close to this one specific hooker.

Hank had to go back to the club a week later and this time lingered at the bar or a bit, drinking slowly. This time he wouldn’t get as drunk, this time he would pay more attention. It was a stressful case that he wasn’t in charge of, just because he didn’t have to do much didn’t mean he could fuck around as much as he wanted.

He leaned back against the bar and let his eyes wander over to Connor. The kid danced stiffly, eyes always down, moving effortlessly to the beat as if it was in the back of his mind. He looked like a hooker, tight clothes and a sway to his hips. He didn’t look like a good one. His posture didn’t flow as well as some of the others. The woman from last week had called him one of the cheaper boys. Hank was curious as to why Reed picked him.

He gave the card to the bartender and pointed the boy out. This time Hank paid attention to the man who went to retrieve Connor, Hank paid attention to the walk downstairs, through the hallways where behind closed doors he could hear moaning and shouting and laughing.

Connor was still in his small outfit, sitting up straight on the bed, fingers tapping on his knee. “Oh, it’s you again. Hello, it’s me, Connor.”

“I know who you are, I had to pick you out.” Hank said. Gain the kids trust, that’s all he had to do for now. He wasn’t an expert on human trafficking cases, but the only way he could think of gaining a prostitutes trust was by not having sex with them.

“I didn’t think you would come back. Or if you did then you would prefer someone else.” Connor said, sanding up and taking a few slow steps towards him. “You must think I’m pretty then. You watched me dance a lot last time, do you want me to dance for you again in here? Or I could do something else.”

Hank sighed, reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look kid, I-“ Hank cut himself off as he spoke, opening his eyes and almost leaping in surprise to find Connor kneeling in front of him, looking up with large brown eyes. “Jesus! What the fuck, I didn’t tell you to do that, get the fuck up.”

Hank had shouted and he saw the slight flinch, Connor’s eyes drifting back at the door, then back at him. “I can suck you off.”

“I don’t want you to.” Hank said. “I’m only here to talk.”

“Last time you didn’t do much talking. Perhaps you would be better off with someone else.”

“Nope, it has to be you.” Hank said. Connor pushed himself back up so he was standing close and looking up at him. “Last time, I was drunk and on edge. Tonight I just want to actually talk.”

Connor smiled, nodding and backing away towards the bed. He sat down in the center, back pressed against the headboard, patting the spot next to him. Hank decided the case would go easier if he just played along. People didn’t hold him much, even in the bars, so of fucking course when he sat down the kid rolled over to cuddle close to him. He wanted to shove Connor away and storm out, he smashed down the urge.

They sat like that in silence for a while. Hank knew he only had an hour to make leeway with Connor, but he didn’t know the best way to do it. Part of him didn’t give a shit about Reed or his case, wanted to fuck around and get drunk without much work. Another part of him was full of curiosity. Something wrong was happening here and once upon a time Hank had loved being a detective and solving mysteries. Back when he had the will for such things.

“My dog’s name is Sumo. He’s a saint bernard. Dumb as a bag of rocks but he’s a good dog. Only shits on the floor every once in a while.” Hank said with a chuckle. Sumo only did that when Hank was too drunk to take him outside.

“Is he a big dog?” Connor asked.

“Huge and smelly. Sheds like crazy too. But when I come home from work he always comes running to the door to say hello.”

Connor hummed softly, wiggling a bit closer. His head was leaning against Hank’s chest in a complete invasion of personal space, but he seemed to be relaxing some. Hank could feel the tension in the boy’s muscles. He could see it in how stiffly he moved.

“I like dogs.” Connor said.

“I know. You said the exact same thing last time.” Hank said. “Have you ever seen a dog before?”

Hank didn’t know if he should be asking that, but there was something in the flat, rehearsed way that Connor said those three words that made them seem insincere. He sounded like a robot reading off pre-written lines.

“No, but I know a lot about them. I have a book.” Connor said.

As soon as Hank opened his mouth to question him, Connor had slid off the side of the bed and walked over to the dresser. Confirming Hank’s suspicions from last time, Connor opened the bottom drawer to reveal a carefully folded selection of sweaters. Connor pushed them aside and pulled out a thin book hidden underneath it all.

“It’s a book on dog breeds. A client gave it to me.” Connor said. He sat down on the edge of the bed and quickly turned to the page about Sumo’s breed. The dog in the photo looked far more noble and impressive than Sumo ever has and ever will.

“A client gave it to you?” Hank asked.

Connor nodded. “Gifts have to be approved by someone out there before I’m allowed to get them, but yes. I told him I liked dogs and he got it for me.”

Connor didn’t look up from the page, but Hank saw the tension return to his shoulders. There was definitely something wrong here, but the kid said everything so calm, even when he said something worrisome. Only getting gifts that were okayed by the boss as worrisome, but Connor said it so matter-of-factly that Hank almost didn’t catch it.

“Saint bernards are gentle and loving despite their size. Good for families with well behaved children. Eager to please, which makes them easier to train.” Connor said, reading it off the page.

“Easy to train, unless its Sumo.” Hank said softly. “The dumbass is probably eating out of the trash right now because he smells a hot pocket wrapper.”

Connor wasn’t particularly easy to talk to. Now that he had his book out he just wanted to show Hank each dog in the book and reciting word for word what the descriptions are without looking at the page. Hank believed Connor did like dogs, even if he was likely instructed to say that, and the real crime here was that Connor had never seen one in person before.

After a while of talking there was a hard knock at the door, a loud and demanding tap tap against the wood and Connor stopped mid-sentence, head popping and eyes narrowed. “I guess our time is up then.” Connor closed the book and went back to his dresser.

“Well, this time I used up the whole hour. I’m sure I’ll be a better conversationalist next time but I can’t make any promises.” Hank stood up and stretched. He would have to get another drink before he left.

“You’re coming back?” Connor said softly, sliding the door closed. “So, I was good then? You’ll tell them I was good?”

Last time Hank had talked to this expressionless kid tell him it was okay to beat him as long as there weren’t any scars in a calm flat voice. Hank had told Reed that it seemed like there was nobody home, nothing in his head. Now, Connor’s large brown eyes staring at him unblinking, asking in a soft whisper if Hank would tell the people here if he was good, Hank had a new opinion. There was definitely someone in there, peeking timidly out from behind the curtains.

Hank left the room and went back down to the bar, the man behind the counter grinned at him as he poured Hank a whiskey.

“You enjoyed him?” He asked. Hank hummed into his glass. “He is sweet boy. A bit awkward but well behaved.”

“You people talk about him like you want to sell him to me.” Hank said, taking a long drink.

“Oh no. My job is just to make sure you’re having a good time. A happy customer is a repeat customer, after all.” The bar tender said.

Hank just kept drinking. He paid his bill and walked out. It was colder tonight than it was last week. Hank pulled up his collar to try and block out the wind and walked. He walked in the general direction of Jimmy’s bar, where he would likely get cheap whiskey without the expectation that he would have sex with a kid locked in the bar’s basement. The idea made Hank want to throw up.

He would talk to Reed tomorrow. Hank may not be allowed to have all the details to he case, but he had some serious questions he needed answers to if he was going to continue being the middle man in this. He needed to know what kind of place this was and what kind of people he had to learn about.

Had Hank said that Connor had disappointed him, that kid would have been punished. He had seen how Connor’s eyes flicker to the door when Hank had shouted at him to stop, how Connor had calmly offered to suck his dick. Hank had heard people when he walked through the halls, there was no doubt someone outside that door had heard him yell.

‘What the fuck, I didn’t tell you to do that, get the fuck up.’

That was what Hank had shouted, loud and clear, with a hooker on his knees in front of him. Connor wanted to know if Hank was going to go out there and say he was bad. Connor was afraid. The kid didn’t show it, but the longer Hank walked the more it made sense. He was half tempted to turn around and run back to that club and find out if they were hurting him or not.

Hank didn’t turn around though. He didn’t even stop walking. Not until he reached Jimmy’s and had his usual stool and a drink in hand. He hated these cases. He was involved now. He had to worry about some whore who just wanted to show off pictures in his book on dog breeds being beaten because Hank too loudly told him not to suck him off. Hank downed his glass and asked for another.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I work nighs at a hotel and my boss doesnt mind me writing while there's nothing to do. Don't expect fast update every time.
> 
> Kinda sad chapter?

Hank was well into his third drink by the time Reed showed up. “You know, you’re supposed to report in as soon as you leave that place.” He said, settling into the bar stool next to Hank.

“Fuck you, Gavin. I don’t report to you.” Hank sneered, throwing back his drink and signaling Jimmy to pour him another one.

“You do for this case, old man. How was the club looking?” Reed said, waving for his own drink.

Hank shrugged. He was hoping to talk about this in the morning, when he had time to drink away the unease that the place had left him with. He was hoping to have time to fully interpret what had happened that night.

“They got those kids on a pretty tight leash. If someone wants to bring a hooker a gift it has to be looked over by security first. I’m sure they would say its just for safety, but I’m not so sure.” Hank said.

“I don’t need to know anything you’re not sure on. I need facts.” Reed said.

“Get off my dick, it was my second time at the place.” Hank sneered. He didn’t drink enough and he definitely wasn’t paid enough to deal with Reed in charge of a case like this. “You want facts you have to wait. All I have to go on is the fucking kid. Connor. Definitely lives in that room, he has clothes and personal items there.”

A tooth brush in the bathroom. A sweater and book in the dresser. Lube, condoms, and random small objects in his bedside table. When the kid wasn’t dancing, was that were he spent all of his time? Did he sleep in that bed?

“I figured that much.” Reed said.

Hank put his glass down with a sigh, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “I know this is some important top secret off the record mission, but I need to know a few things. Anything you can tell me. I can’t keep going in there blind and facing those people without knowing why I’m doing it.”

Reed’s expression pinched, his hand going into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He took the time to light one before answering. “Clubs like these have been opening up all over Detroit in the past ten years. They have a symbol, a bright blue ring on the upper left corner of the signs. It gives customers a clue on where to look.” Reed said. He took a moment, sucking on his cigarette and blowing the smoke out into the bar without a care, expression tired but relaxed. “I wasn’t the first one to notice that none of the people they got dancing and turning tricks aren’t seen around the neighborhoods. They’re never seen outside.”

“Have you gotten any leads in the missing persons reports?” Hank asked. It was always the first step. Someone seems to be held captive, check to see if they are missing.

“Of course. I got nothing. No one. Not a single one of them. They’re getting into that building and they work in that building, but they never leave. Trust me, I’ve done some long stakeouts and the bouncers will come and go, the bartenders, the managers, everyone. Except the prostitutes, they never leave. They’re not reported as missing.”

“So they came from somewhere else?” Hank asked. It sounded like a collection of clubs and based on the number of dancers at the one he’s working on, that means there are a lot of victims. Someone has to be looking for them.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Someone I organizing this whole thing, someone controls the movement of people, capturing them, training them, and then working them at their locations. My source tells me that your Connor knows who it is.” Reed said. His nose wrinkled as he said the words ‘your Connor’.

Hank tightened his grip on his glass. He didn’t like those words either. “I should kick your ass for getting me involved in all this.” Hank said. He drank. “The kid talked about nothing but dogs the entire hour I was there. He had a book on them. Memorized every word.”

They drank together in silence. Hank never considered Reed a drinking buddy, or even a coworker he tolerated. Most of the time Hank wanted to bash his teeth in, but this case felt too important for that. So instead of telling him to get lost he let Reed stick around for a drink, so long as he paid off his tab.

Hank didn’t want to think too hard on the case anymore.

He took a taxi home due to Jimmy’s insistence. He fumbled with his keys in the lock and groaned as Sumo ran to the door and barked to greet him. He licked at Hank’s hand, sniffed his feet, and then ran to the back door and sat.

He let Sumo out into the back yard and then collapsed onto the couch. His head was pounding and his body ached as it relaxed into the worn cushions. He was about to fall asleep when he felt Sumo jump onto the couch and drape himself over his back.

“Fuck, Sumo, at least let me get up and shut the door.” Hank said, wiggling out from under the dog. It was cold tonight. The last thing Hank wanted to do was let all the warm air out.

He stood in the kitchen for a moment after making sure the door was locked. There was a bottle on top of the fridge. The night was still young after all. But Hank knew if he went for that bottle he would want to try the gun too. Sometimes the temptation for one always brought him to the other. He decided to be done for the bottle tonight. He wanted to wait to die until after the case was finished. Maybe the kid could have Sumo once he was free.

The dog sat by Hank’s feet and whined loudly. “Easy to train, my ass.” Hank said, fingers reaching out and patting the dog’s head. “You know I met this kid, knows more about you than you do. Did you know you were supposed to be well behaved? Yeah, I didn’t know either.”

He wandered back to the couch. He needed to sleep and the best place to sleep was the couch with the tv on and a drunken head pulling him into unconsciousness. Today, despite the alcohol, his mind felt too restless to sleep. Not far from here was a bar, where prisoners were dancing and living and fucking in a place they couldn’t leave. He should bring Connor a gift. Gifts were allowed. Gifts were a fast way to earn trust and get the name of whoever is filling these clubs with whores and where they come from.

“You know, if he was allowed animals I would just give him you. It would make his fucking day. Maybe that would get him to show some damn feeling. He’s too calm about it all.” Hank said. It was impossible to be calm around Sumo. He was a huge dog that liked to sleep on people. If they were relaxed, then Sumo would relax too, and that’s how people get peed on.

Sumo climbed onto the couch and rested his head on Hank’s lap. Connor would love him. Connor would finally smile, would talk about how much he liked dogs as he dug his fingers into Sumo’s fur. Connor would recite the section on saint bernards from that dog book. Maybe that would make him happy, if Hank got him a book. A new thing for him to read over and memorize until Hank got him out of there. He pushed himself up, ignoring at how Sumo whined again, and wandered to his bookcase.

Connor didn’t have the option to be picky. Hank was sure he could give the boy an old newspaper and he would read every word. It probably gets boring in there. Hank had books similar to Connor’s, big encyclopedias on bugs or plants. Connor might like one of those. Hank wouldn’t though, because then that would be what they had to talk about. Hank did no want to hear Connor recite sections about bugs like he had that night about dogs.

Hank picked a book and put it down on the table. If Connor didn’t like it then there would be others he could pick. Then the kid had something while he had to stay in that place until they were ready to get him out.

He sat down on the couch and let his head fall back. He felt Sumo crawl onto his lap like a heavy, warm blanket. He fell asleep without another thought.

  
Instead of waiting whole week like last time, Hank went back to the club after five days. Reed told him that he should slowly start making his visits more frequent. Act like the kid got him hooked. Hank skipped the dancing entirely. He ignored them in favor of the bar.

“Would you like your usual or would you like to try something new?” The man asked, grinning from behind he counter.

“Usual is fine. I brought him something, I hope that’s alright.” Hank said. He put the book no the counter and the bar tender picked it up.

“Forensics Cases? Why the hell would you get him this?” He asked, lifting a hand to wave over one of the guards.

“My wife found these crime stories fascinating, especially the process of how the crime is solved. I miss her. I figured that this way would make me feel more at ease.” Hank said. He didn’t miss his wife, but if he made it sound like she had died and he was using Connor to ease the grief, then it was fine.

The guard opened the book, flipping through the pages to try and find anything hidden inside of it. He read the back of the book, the inner cover, a few random pages inside of it. It was like they thought he was giving the kid a step by step guide of how to escape. After few minutes the man handed the book back and told him he would go get Connor ready. Perhaps a book about crime scene investigation was out of the ordinary, but Hank had a lot of books about the subject, back when e cared about his job. Back when he had someone as enthusiastic about it as he was.

He was taken downstairs and through the same series of hallways. Left, right right, and then Connor’s door. The path was more clear after his third visit and significantly less alcohol in him. The guard opened the door and then locked it after Hank stepped inside. Connor wasn’t on the bed this time, but Hank heard the water running in the bathroom.

He stepped further into the room, his shoes clicking on the cold floors. Concrete, Hank noted with a sinking feeling.

“Jesus, what the fuck happened to you?” Hank nearly shouted again, but this time held back. There were always people in the hallways monitoring.

Connor was scrubbing his arm, making the half dozen little marks bleed. Hank felt like he was going to be sick, the book dropping from his hands as he stepped forward.

“I’m fine.” Connor insisted as Hank took hold of the arm. He turned the knob of the sink until the water ran cold. Hank held Connor’s arm under the cold water until the bleeding stopped and he could get a better look at it. “I was trying to clean and bandage it before you arrived. It’s… unsightly. I apologize.”

Connor’s voice was flatter than usual. If it wasn’t for the slight tremble going though his arm then Hank might have wondered if Connor cared at all. Hank knew better than that.

“It doesn’t look too bad.” Hank said. It was a lie.

There were about five cigarette burns on the inside of Connor’s arm, all done fairly recently. The scrubbing had burst open the delicate skin and caused them to bleed. It was definitely going to leave a bad mark.

“Who did this?” Hank asked. He knew how to handle victims. He was a homicide detective, sometimes he had to talk to traumatized witnesses. Hank knew how to keep his voice calm. He was sober enough to control it.

“No one.” Connor said.

“Bullshit. I thought you said your customers weren’t supposed to leave marks on you.” Hank said.

“They’re not. Don’t worry, she was charged the appropriate amount. This shouldn’t hinder my ability to do my job.” Connor said. His gaze was slightly off, unfocused, looking at Hank’s shoulder instead of his face. “You would be happy to hear that my price went down though, due to cosmetic damages.”

Hank stared. Connor talked about himself like he was a used car. Hank watched as he pulled out a small box from under the sink with shaking hands. A first aid kit. The kid was going to patch himself up right here in the bathroom.

“Let me.” Hank said, taking the box from him and waving Connor over to sit on the toilet. “Hold up your arm.”

Connor did. Hank looked in the kit and found no burn cream, no pain relief cream, no pain relievers of any kind. Just disinfectant and bandages. Hank had worked with less and didn’t say a word as he carefully wrapped up Connor’s arm. Connor had said a woman did this to him. Hank tried to think back, had he seen any women in the bar? A few of them if he remembered correctly. Which ones had done this to Connor? Why would they do it?

“Thank you.” Connor said once Hank was finished. “I want to apologize. I thought I had more time to get cleaned up before they brought you in. I didn’t intend for you to be put through so much trouble.”

Hank couldn’t believe this kid sometimes. Here he was, locked away and injured and he worried more about how Hank felt about the burns on his skin than he did himself. Some bullshit ‘cosmetic damages’ had him more worried than infection or pain.

“If you want different company for the night, I understand.” Connor said.

“I don’t want anyone else. I came here for you. I brought you a present after all.” Hank said, glancing back at the book, laying open on the floor from where he had dropped it. “Go sit down and I’ll get it for you.”

Connor didn’t move for a moment. His eyes lingered on the book, blinking slowly. He was confused, but leaning towards it curiously. Hank cleared his throat until the boy snapped out of it and jumped to his feet, scurrying out of the bathroom and moving to sit on the side of the bed.

Hank stood up straight, catching himself in the mirror and frowning at his reflection. If he looked down he would see the red blood still circling the drain, he would see the bloody towels on the ground, he didn’t want to see those things. He turned around and left the bathroom. When he bent down to pick up the book he let his eyes wander. There were smashed cigarette butts on the bedside table, the room reeked of it, Connor wiggled in his seat.

“It’s nothing much. Just something off the shelves at home.” He held the book out to Connor. It seemed stupid now. Why would Connor want something like this. He needed something more.

“For me?” Connor said softly, reaching out to it. “’Odd Forensic Cases of the Twentieth Century’… Thank you.”

Hank had a lot of forensic books. He never touched them anymore. He never touched any of his books. He saw enough bad shit at work, he didn’t want to read up on it. Connor would find more use for it, if it interested him at all.

“Can I read it now?” Connor asked.

Hank smiled and nodded. “I got it for you so you could read it. I’m just here to fill the silence. Read for the entire hour, I’ll be right here.”

He needed a drink. He needed to get the fuck out of this awful room. He needed to breathe fresh air and get far from this place. He needed to take Connor with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I ended up finishing another chapter? 
> 
> Another kinda sad chapter

Hank didn’t have a lot of options. Connor had to get out of there soon. The scars on that boy’s arm haunted him every time he blinked. These were the worst kind of cases, nothing good ever happened in the end. Connor wasn’t going to last much longer in that place.

He didn’t know what to do. He could get killed if he didn’t plan right, he was talking about stealing some slave out of a sex club. Hank’s hands pushed through his hair, tugging at the greasy strands. He was in way over his head. If anything went wrong, if one mistake was made, Connor would be the one punished for it.

Years as a cop meant he had a stockpile of information on the programs in this city. Detroit had no shortage of people in need, which brought out the worst of everyone. Hank had been on the force long enough to see it and be sickened by it. But desperation brought out the good in the world too and there were always people willing to help. At least Hank hoped so.

Jericho was a newer organization, just a few years of activity, brought into existence because of how bad human trafficking had gotten in the city. There were always prostitute rings and sex clubs long before Reed got wind of this big one. Hank made an appointment.

“So, you’re not requesting services for someone recently rescued, but someone still in captivity?” Markus asked, his hands folded on the desk in front of him.

Hank nodded. “I’m in contact with him and I’m working on getting him out. I just need to make sure he has what he needs when he’s out.” He said. He didn’t know what someone in Connor’s situation would need, but he knew he couldn’t provide it all himself.

“This is rather short notice on a rather serious situation. Is he going to need legal protection? Is he in any physical danger? Any health concerns?”

God, Hank didn’t even know all the answers to that. He didn’t know the answers to anything. He didn’t know how old Connor was, he didn’t know if he had any diseases, his legal name, where he was from. Hank only knew that Connor didn’t deserve what was happening to him. Hank used to be a cop who believed in something. He would die a somewhat decent man one day, maybe enough to forgive the bullet he plans to put in his skull.

“I know he has plenty of signs of physical abuse, severe emotional trauma if I had to guess. I don’t know about any diseases though. He is involved in a current criminal investigation, so he would need legal representation. I don’t fucking know how old he is or if he’s even a citizen. He could be a fourteen old from Italy for all I know.” Hank said quickly. He clenched his hand into a fist and clenched his jaw until he could unclench it again. “Are you going to help him or not?”

“Of course we are going to help him.” Markus said. He blinked and the intensity of his gaze brought attention to the face that his eyes were different colors. “We offer everything we can to anyone in need, if we have the resources available. I need a forty eight hour notice on when he would arrive so I can organize a doctor appointment to check his health and get him proper legal representation. I’ll have to assign him a case worker to oversee his recovery. If there will be police involvement then I will pick North, he will be in good hands.”

Hank’s mind took a moment to take all the information in. It sounded like an actual plan. A good actual plan. Connor would have a doctor, a lawyer, he would be safe. He wasn’t going to tell Reed until after the kid was lawyered up, that was decided. He didn’t give a shit about Reed’s investigation anymore. He hated these fucking cases for a reason. He worked murder cases because the victim was dead. He just had to catch the criminal. These cases, they were alive and there was a time limit on saving them.

Hank went home feeling a little more at ease. He had a decent plan for what to do after he got Connor out. Now he just needed a plan to actually get him out. Hank got the bottle off the top of the fridge. He didn’t get a glass. Tonight he didn’t need one. It was faster just drinking from the bottle, he could just throw it back and get it down his throat this way. He took a long, slow drink as he walked up to the bookcase.

It had been a day and a half since he gave Connor that book and Hank had to wonder if he had read it yet. If Connor liked it or not. Hank found a few other forensic books, making a small pile on the coffee table. Perhaps he could hide a secret message in one of the books, warning Connor that he should be ready. Hank smiled to himself. That was really clever. Hank had to drink in celebration for that idea alone.

Hank turned on the radio, turning up the volume as the loud and fast sound of the guitar shook the walls. It was his thinking music. It was his drinking music. His everything music. He swayed and drank and tried to let the fast rhythm try to beat ideas into his head.

The layout of the basement was important. Hank visualized the door in the club that headed downstairs. Was Connor’s room a left, right, and right again or was it the other way around? How many doors from the corner as it? Were there any other exits? Hank needed more time. He fuckin hated these cases because he knew he was on a time limit but he had no idea how much time was left.

 

“Hank?” Connor asked softly. He was reading one of the new forensics books that Hank had brought. In the three days between the first gift and his next visit, Connor had read through it twice. He had actually smiled when he saw Hank come in with more.

“What?” Hank said.

Connor hadn’t looked up from the page, but his eyes didn’t seem to be scanning the words anymore. “How much am I worth?”

“How much are you fucking what?” Hank snapped.

“Don’t overreact. I’m just wondering how much you have been paying to spend an hour listening to me talk.”

“Why does it matter? A price isn’t what’s important.” Hank said. Connor glanced up, his lip being mashed between his teeth. Hank sighed, and scratched his head. “I usually pay 400 for an hour, but tonight I paid 325.”

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed as he nodded slowly. “I was right then. My price went down because of cosmetic damage.” He wiggled a bit, pressing his arm against his leg. The burns looked like they were healing slowly, but still healing.

“Price doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t make anything. It doesn’t make these people right.” Hank said.

Connor’s fingers tapped back and forth on the cover of the book. “If I’m not bringing in much money then I couldn’t keep up with how much it costs to keep me.” Connor said slowly. “What would you do when they get rid of me?”

Hank listened to him, the tension moving through him again. Was Connor hinting at him, asking for help? Because there it was, the time limit, counting down before it was too late and Hank failed to save someone. He hated these cases.

Connor didn’t say anything else. He just kept reading the book, turning the pages one by one as he read through the different cases. He needed to get Connor out of here. The path was left, right, right from the stairs to Connor’s door. Hank couldn’t see any other exits and there were too many guards to just take Connor and run. Left right right. Would Connor be able to run that fast or would Hank have to carry him?

“Connor, do you want to leave this place?” Hank asked softly. He almost whispered.

“I don’t want them to get rid of me.” Connor said.

That wasn’t what Hank had asked. There was a big difference between wanting to escape and not wanting your captors to ‘get rid’ of him. Hank turned his attention to Connor’s back, trying to figure out what kind of help he needed when he got out. He looked malnourished, the bones of his spine and his ribs pressing against the skin. Hank could see the small, long faded scars against his skin and he wondered if each one of them had brought his price down a bit more.

Hank had a horrifying feeling that Connor had been in places like this for a very long time, that he was reaching the end of his usefulness for these people. The escape had to be soon.

  
Hank called in favors people didn’t remember, many of them never existing in the first place, until he got all the blueprints and zoning permits on that building. He circled the area Connor’s room was and traced out the layout the basement hallways, memorizing each wall and path. He should call Reed in, but Reed would want to take the kid to the station. He needed a distraction, but a SWAT team would bring in too many guns into those cramped halls. Besides, the investigation wasn’t ready for that.

There was a delivery entrance in the alley. It wasn’t far from Connor’s room, the hallway only had one turn and it was a straight shot to the nearest stairs. Hank could park his car near the alley, he just had to get Connor to it and pray the damn thing starts. If he let Markus know in time then he could take Connor straight to Jericho. They could lay low. Markus might find room in one of the shelters, but Hank was going to offer his couch. Sumo might help the kid relax from the change of scenery.

Hank leaned forward and let his head fall into his hands. How did he get into this mess? His wife used to think his dedication to the job was admirable, until the accident. Then his dedication to the job was all he had, he had hardly noticed she was gone until he was between cases. Then his dedication moved to liquor and work was shoved to the back of his mind. He hated cases like these, they always made him care too much.

His finger traced the path from Connor’s door to the stairs to the delivery entrance to his car. It was the shortest escape route he could find. Hank followed it again, imagining himself dragging Connor behind him. Then he imagined he carried Connor, trying to decide which would be faster. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his finger moving along the path. Would Connor stay a calm as he always is? Would he try to fight it? Does Connor even want to leave? So many questions rushed through Hank’s mind. Anything can go wrong.

“Worst case scenario, Sumo, is I get shot. Bound to happen anyway and now you finally get to go live with that nice lady down the street.” Hank said, patting Sumo’s head that rested on his knees. “Best case scenario is we get a house guest and it will be someone who will let you slobber all over their face.”

What a fucking mess this all was. He hadn’t even known this kid for that long and he was breaking him out of that place. Hank hated these cases, he couldn’t help himself when a kid was being hurt. He hadn’t even gotten the info Reed wanted. He was putting the whole investigation at risk.

Hank gripped his hair tightly until he felt the stinging pain. He had too much whiskey in his stomach already. There was a risk of it coming back up. He was going to fuck this up. He was going to get the kid killed and no one would give a damn. Hank was going to get a bullet in his head. He had a gun in one of the drawers in the kitchen. It was going to happen anyway.

Hank didn’t move. He tried to stay as still as possible because he didn’t want to move an inch closer to the kitchen. If he died, Connor would have one less customer, one less person paying a couple hundred dollars for an hour of his time. Hank felt the weight of the time limit over Connor’s head hold him in place, stopping him from moving to kitchen. 


	5. Chapter 5

“What the fuck do you need a thousand dollars for?” Reed hissed into his cup of coffee.

Hank had every bit of the escape plan sorted in his head. The weather was starting to get bad, snow coming down in light bursts. He would wait for the first big snow storm of the season, which the weather channel has predicted for tomorrow night. He just needed to get Connor to his car parked in the alley and then they could get away in the low visibility.

“I’m a sliver away from getting this kid to tell me who the ring leader is. You need him to trust me, he needs my help. This is the best way.” Hank said. They were meeting in a coffee shop instead of the bar for once. It was the easiest way to convince Reed he was being serious. Seeing a prostitute one or two days a week for a few month got expensive, and since this was an unofficial police case Hank didn’t have to worry about the cost. Hank assumed the department or the feds someone was covering the cost, he just knew he wasn’t “I need privacy, that is something that you have to pay for in that place.”

He just had to get the guards out of the hall. Hank wasn’t even lying about the actual purpose of the money. He was going to get them away and get a clear path of escape. If there was no trouble, they could get out of that building in less than a minute. Connor could go from a prisoner to free man in less than a minute. Hank could go from alive to having a few extra holes in his body in less than a minute. Hank was thankful Reed didn’t know how serious this was. If he did, Reed would want to shove it in his face and Hank would rather get shot than be asked to grovel and beg to fucking Reed.

Reed frowned at his coffee cup, light brown fluid still spinning slowly. He looked pissed off. He looked like he was about to go tell Hank to fuck off. He picked up his mug and took chugged it all down.

“You get me what I need. I’ll find a way to get you your grand by, fuck… by tomorrow night.” Reed rubbed a hand down his face. “But I need a name and a location, job title, fucking anything he can give me. This is a thousand dollars, I need this justified in the end of it.”

Hank nodded. Connor was going to get a doctor and a lawyer once he gets to Jericho. Or they would die and Reed would lose any chance at the info he needs. The closer Hank got to the actual rescue attempt the more doubt swirled around in his head. Hank downed his coffee, drinking as fast as he could. It was like that feeling of having only one bullet in the revolver, not knowing if he’s going to pull the trigger and survive or not. It was a feeling Hank preferred to have drunk.

Reed left without any promises. It didn’t matter. Hank couldn’t wait much longer. So much time had gone by and one day Hank was going to walk into that building and Connor wouldn’t be there. The kid was running out of time. Hank went home and grabbed the bottle and let in a desperate gasp for air. God he couldn’t do this. He was going to get Connor killed and for what? A failed and expensive police operation. This was all a mistake.

Hank put the bottle own rougher than necessary. He leaned against the kitchen counter, his hands inches from the drawer. He could open it. Just for a moment. All he had to do was see it. After one more drink Hank built up the strength to pull open the drawer. The revolver stood out the most, but that’s not the thing he wanted right now. Maybe in a few hours, maybe tomorrow morning. He pulled out the picture frame sitting underneath it, and shut the drawer. He didn’t turn it over yet. There was still too much liquor in the bottle for that.

It was a picture of Cole. Hank didn’t remember the occasion or the reason for that big smile on the little boy’s face. It was a good picture though. It looked like someone had told a joke, had said something funny or silly and the boy had overflowed with giggles. Hank lifted his fingers, carefully tracing the photo. Cole had been four when this picture was taken. He had been so little. He never had a chance at anything.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Hank whispered.

  
Connor seemed to be in a good mood when Hank came in the next day. He had finished another book then. He had it held against his chest and once the door closed he grinned at the sight of him. Hank must have earned the kid’s trust somehow on accident for him to risk a smile like that.

“Hello Hank. Did you know that because the bones are the sturdiest parts of the body they are often the best reserved remains. So Dental records are the most accurate form of identification.” Connor said, tapping the top of the book with his fingers. “This was very interesting.”

Hank smiled back at him. It was tonight. He had to do this. He had paid the guards for privacy and most of them had left that part of the hallways. He had promised Reed that it would all be worth it. He had told Cole that it was worth it. The photograph was waiting on his kitchen counter. It was worth it, either way.

“Connor…” Hank said slowly. Damn, he really should have tried to sneak a secret message into those books. He should have prepared the kid better. But it was too late to have regrets now.

“Sometimes wrong. You look more tired than usual.” Connor said. His smile slipped away into a neutral expression. Hank didn’t have the focus to decide if he was scared or not.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Hank whispered, reaching up and putting his hands on Connor’s shoulders. He had always been careful about keeping the touching to a minimum. Right now it felt right though. Right now he needed it. “Because I got my car in the alley and a warm place to get you to if you can trust me right now.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not sure I understand.” Connor said. His eyes dropped down to Hank’s chin, narrowing slightly.

“There are people outside this place who want to help you. I got a warm place to sleep and good food to eat and I just want you to trust me right now. That’s all it will cost you.”

“Hank, this is a terrible idea.” Connor said, whispering quickly. He looked startled, his eyes wide and his gaze moving back and forth to avoid looking at him. “I can’t, that’s against the rules. I can’t disobey that.”

“It’s scary. I ain’t gonna lie. But you deserve to be out there.” Hank said. The more he talked, the more a forced calm seemed to settle over him. That same, dull calm that Connor had when they first met. When he asked if Hank wanted to fuck or draw or beat him.

“There’s nothing for me out there. I am supposed to be in here. I’ve never been out there.” Connor said, nodding slowly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Hank felt an ache in his chest. “If you stay here they will get rid of you. Aren’t you afraid to die, Connor.” He said slowly.

The kid was already cheap, that’s what he had told the bartender. They shouldn’t mind whatever he wanted to do to him, he just wanted to do it in private. A thousand dollars was probably not a lot for these people, but the bartender said it was more than what Connor was likely to make that night anyway. They just didn’t care enough about him to want to preserve him anymore. Hank could be killing him right now and they got their money.

Connor looked down at his feet, Hank couldn’t read anything off of his face anyway besides confusion. Hank squeezed Connor’s shoulder, feeling the weight of their time limit but he wasn’t afraid anymore. He had to die sometime.

“You don’t even know me that well. You don’t know how upset with me she would be if we did this. I can’t leave unless they sell me somewhere else.”

“I paid for you for the hour. And I paid to clear the hallway. Isn’t that enough. I want to take you to my car.” Hank said. It would take them less than a minute to get from this room to the delivery entrance. Less than a minute and they would be outside. “Just trust me.”

Connor stood in silence for a few moments before letting out a sow, soft breath. “I’m sorry sir. I can’t do that. It’s forbidden.”

Hank closed his eyes and sighed. Sometimes people didn’t want to be saved. Sometimes he really regrets not using that shit clever idea of writing secret messages in the book. Some people weren’t ready and Hank had already decided that he wasn’t going to let any of them live to regret it.

“I’m sorry, kid.” Hank said.

He yanked Connor close and pressed palm over his mouth. The boy started struggling immediately, making it difficult for Hank to get the door open. He was lucky he was sober for this. Drunk him would be a mess.

Connor felt as light as a hundred pound bag of feathers. It wasn’t hard to hold him off the ground so he wouldn’t be dragged. Once the door was open, he was able to get his feet moving fast. Running would have been faster if Connor agreed, but if Connor didn’t then the only option of both of them surviving this was to carry him. God this was a bad plan. Hank would call himself an idiot as soon as they got out of here.

Connor kicked out, trying to throw off balance. Hank hit the wall as he turned the corner, Connor’s elbow trying to jab against his temple. His breathing came in rough gasps, eyes widened as adrenaline hit him. There were no guards yet. He kept his hand firm on Connors mouth. He stairs were down the hall. Hank heaved Connor’s weight into his arms and made a dash for the end of the hall, nearly tripping as they got to the stairs and he hurried out of them.

Hank didn’t know if there was anyone guarding the door, inside or out. He had left a blind spot in the plan. Hank didn’t have time for regrets at the moment. Getting Connor up the stairs would have been a hell of a lot easier if Connor wasn’t kicking around. It was dark upstairs. The room so dark that the only things he could see was boxes glowing in the red light of the exit sign.

“Fuck!” Hank hissed.

Connor’s teeth sank into his hand and as soon as Hank loosened his grip he darted away. Hank pulled his hand close to his chest and bit his lip to keep from shouting. He couldn’t tell if he was bleeding or if the red light was playing tricks on his eyes.

“Connor. I know you’re scared.” Hank said softly. He looked around, trying to see into the darkness. He didn’t see which way Connor went. He couldn’t hear a sound, not even breathing. Even afraid he had too much control. Hank stood up, looking over the boxes, leaning down to peek into dark corners.

“I’m sorry I grabbed you. That was wrong of me. I had to make a decision and I had to make it fast. You know it as much as I do, you don’t got much time left here.” Hank said. Not a sound. “All these times I’ve been coming to visit you, have I ever done anything to make you distrust me? I brought you books. I promise there are a million other books out there.”

It was a movement in the corner of his eye. Brown eyes peeking up over the edge of a box, dark, narrow, and distrusting. Hank smiled and huffed out a laugh. This kid really liked books it seemed. Hank could play on that.

“I got a dozen more book back home on my shelf. You can have them.” Hank said. Connor didn’t move. Hank felt like he was talking to a little kid. He felt like he was talking to Cole, holding his hand in the hospital, trying to coax him into waking up like he tried to coax Connor from what he thought was a safe place. “You don’t want to die here Connor.”

“I don’t?” He asked. Connor walked slowly to the side, closer to Hank but still with the box between them. “I don’t want to die.”

Connor was whispering, he didn’t sound certain. He sounded questioning. That was an improvement but with so little time they needed these improvements to come faster. Hank held his hand out, trying to beckon him closer. They were so close.

“My car is right outside. I promise.” Hank said. Connor stepped forward, his hands pressed against his chest, fingers wiggling, turning away from Hank slightly.

He pushed open the door and peeked out. Snow came down heavily, covering everything so the world was grey and white and cold. Connor wasn’t dressed to be outside. He had too much bare skin to be able to last in this snow storm. The door swung shut behind them and Hank started marching towards the end of the alley. His car was covered in snow and he hadn’t even been in the club for that long. He quickly went to wipe the snow off of the windshield.

“Hurry. Get in.” Hank said, pulling the door open and looking back behind him. “Connor?”

It was hard to see through the snow, but he could barely make out Connor’s figure. He was standing perfectly still by the delivery entrance of the club, staring upwards. Hank jogged over, his feet sinking into the snow with each step.

“What am I doing out here?” Connor whispered.

“You can ask that later. But first, get in the car so you don’t freeze to death. This is all going far better than I ever thought so please lets get out of here.” Hank said quickly, throwing his hand over his shoulder to point to the car. Connor was already trembling.

“She’s going to hate me. They’re going to kill us.” Connor said, voice flat, eyes distant and far away.

Hank could already hear shouting inside. He could already hear the people running and screaming in anger and fear. They knew Connor was gone. They must have checked early. Or there were cameras. Fuck, Hank hadn’t even thought about cameras. His hand darted out and snatched at Connor’s hand, gripping tight to their wrist.

“They’re going to kill us Hank. Maybe it’s not too late to go back.” Connor said.

Hank walked, pulling the hand along behind him, trudging through the snow and feeling the cold mush sink into his boots. Connor rambled about someone hating him, someone being angry, and begging.

“Please, Hank. Let’s go back inside. The weather conditions will kill us and we can’t possibly get away on these roads.” Connor said.

Hank tried to guide the kid into the backseat. There was a blanket there, some old cop instinct kicking in when he was getting ready. He pulled the blanket onto Connor’s lap and slamming the door. Connor flinched at the sound but all the words died. He just sat there, eyes staring out the window and watching it all come down around him. The car started with a struggling rattle and he pulled away, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the building before this whole thing fell apart. Hank felt like an idiot, like a drunken fool, but fuck he had done it. Now he just had to get the kid to Jericho.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I hope it came out alright. It's a clean getaway, but was it the right choice? Is Connor going to be okay out there?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up LONG. I would apologize but I know that's exactly what you guys all wanted.

“My name is Connor.”

Now was the time for regrets. Now, with Connor safe here at Jericho, with no bullets and no guards and no more slavers. At this moment, Hank stood a few feet from the car with Markus by his side as Connor’s new case worker, North, tried to gently talk Connor out of the back seat of Hank’s car.

The first regret, he retraumatized the victim. He hadn’t given Connor any warning or choice in the matter. This is why Hank worked murder cases. The victim was already dead, he just had to worry about witnesses and even then all the delicate discussions were usually handled by someone more capable. He hadn’t been able to talk Connor into running away, so he just took him.

“Hello Connor. My name is North. This is my friend, Markus. We are like you.” The woman said. Connor just stared straight ahead.

“I know what happened had to be very scary for you. We heard about what happened.” North said. Markus had hand picked her for Connor. Hank didn’t know what was so special about the woman, but she sat on the sidewalk, all the doors of the car open for Connor to pick any exit he pleased, and spoke to him calmly. “I know. I used to work in a club like you did. Sometimes you get customers who don’t explain what they want. That’s always the worst. Not knowing.”

Second regret, he hadn’t prepared enough. The escape was messy. Connor had scraped palms and a bleeding elbow from the struggle down the hall and up the stairs. Hank could probably be seen wrestling Connor out of the building on any cameras they had set up that he hadn’t seen. He had planned path and took it as soon as possible. By some miracle it worked. They got here.

Connor glanced over to North. It was only a moment, but it had been the first indication that he was listening to them. Markus and North had come out of the building and Hank waved them to the open door. Connor introduced himself and then nothing. Then he just stared out of the front windshield.

“I’m sorry that Hank took you like that. Men like him don’t realize how scary they are to us. They don’t realize when they hurt us. Do you mind coming inside the building with me? We can make sure you didn’t get hurt too bad. It’s a bit early for breakfast, but we can get you something to eat and drink.” North said.

Connor didn’t move.

“I’m not supposed to be out here.” Connor said. Calm and flat.

“I know it feels like that. But if you can trust me, I will help you find where you need to be.” North said.

Connor didn’t move, he didn’t speak, he sat almost completely still, staring blankly out the window. Nothing was working. Nothing seemed to help. Third regret, he made Connor afraid of the people who were supposed to help him. God, Hank had kidnapped him from a sex club and brought him to a new building full of strangers.

North looked back at Markus. Hank didn’t know what sort of conversation they were having with their eyes, what assessment they were making about Connor, but their approach to the situation had changed. North stood up, but still stayed a few steps back from the car.

“Connor, it’s time to go inside. You won’t be hurt, but we have to go in now.” North said.

Hank didn’t expect it to work, but Connor nodded and carefully and slowly climbed out of the car. He looked like he was freezing. His arms and shoulders shaking wildly like they were limp leaves being hit by the wind. He leaned towards North, eyes wide and lips moving fast, but Hank couldn’t hear him.

“Sometimes we get people in this state. They’re uncomfortable by the fact we aren’t forcing them to do anything. They’re… overwhelmed by freewill.” Markus said, watching he quiet, whispering conversation between Connor and North. “All of us were just like him once upon a time. We will make sure he has everything he needs.”

North and Connor walked a few feet ahead. Connor seemed stiff, his arms hanging at his side, his back straight. Perfect posture. From behind, Connor didn’t look too overwhelmed. He almost looked like he was in control. Hank wondered if he saw Connor’s face right now, if he would look as calm and empty as he had during those first few visits.

“The first order of business is just a brief meeting.” Markus said.

“A briefing.”

“Thank you, North. Now, we won’t do anything without your permission, Connor. If you choose to walk out the door right now then you are free to do so.” Markus said. The office was clean and tidy, the colors on the posters and on the knickknacks on the desk and shelves were bright and calming. Connor didn’t look around at all. He just faced forward, mouth pressed together in a thin line.

Markus continued. “If you do want access to our resources then the first thing we can do for you is offer you a full medical exam. We need your signed consent. We want to do some bloodwork as well, test you for as many things as we can. After that, we could organize shelter for you.”

“Am I not going back to the club then?” Connor asked.

North shook her head. “No, Connor. You never have to go back there again. You are free from them.”

“Hank said that when he stole me he had a warm bed waiting and a million different books.”

“We have partnerships with shelters all over Detroit. We have one we run ourselves but space there is limited. When we became an official non-profit we had to obey occupancy laws.” Markus said.

Hank didn’t say anything. It was hard not to cut in and say he had space on his couch. Jericho would probably get him something better than a ratty couch in a filth shit house. Connor looked confused, his eyebrows drawn together and his eyes down. Another pang of guilt and regret and Hank rubbed his hand over his face.

“That seems reasonable.” Connor said.

“Okay, good. We also want to get you legal representation. Do you have an ID or a birth certificate?” Markus asked.

Connor hesitated. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s okay. Simon will help get one for you. We will take care of it.” Markus said, smiling softly. “Go with North. She will get you some food and get the consent ready.”

Connor looked over to Hank. He didn’t move. Didn’t get up from his seat. They just stared at each other for a moment before Hank understood what he was waiting for. Freewill was overwhelming, after all. “Go with them, Connor, but tell them to stop if its too much.” Hank said. Connor nodded.

Another regret, he made Connor feel like he owned him now. Connor looked to him for guidance, for orders. Hank had dragged him from that building and brought him somewhere else. Hank wanted Connor to get help, but he didn’t give him time to understand what help was. A few hours ago, Connor was ready to do anything anyone told him to do, as long as they paid for him and didn’t break the club rules.

Connor opened his mouth as he stood up, but snapped it closed. Hank wanted to call after him, ask him what he wanted to say, but he let Connor and North leave the room without a fuss. He wasn’t going to force the kid to talk to him.

“She was in a place like that too?” Hank asked once the door was closed.

“North?” Markus said. “There is a reason I chose her for this case. She has experience with the mindset, the situation, and because she’s strong and rather protective. And she doesn’t like you.”

“And that’s why you chose her?” Hank said.

Markus let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “Well, I chose her because if you ended up hurting Connor then she wasn’t afraid to keep him safe from you. Don’t take it the wrong way, Lieutenant, but none of us have had the best experience with police.”

One thing about Jericho that drew Hank’s attention was that the organization was founded and ran by the very people they were trying to help. Victims of human trafficking and modern slavery. They knew a lot more than what Hank did, if they said Hank was making things worse, then he as making things worse.

  
Hank left Connor there. He promised to be back around noon, after he got some sleep and got things settled on his side. No one had broken in which had to be a good thing considering he had taken his own car to do the dumbest rescue mission in the world. Sumo ran up to him and jumped up onto Hank, nearly knocking him over as he started licking his face.

He let Sumo get all of his kisses in, he gave the dog as much attention as he wanted, and let him out back. After he refilled the food and water bowl, he took a shower and climbed into bed. It was nearly three in the morning at this point. He had gone straight to Jericho after he got Connor out of the building. The roads were empty and desolate, the whole city seemed quiet. It was one of the blessings of a snow storm.

He got five hours of sleep. It was a miracle he was up when he did. Five hours of sleep meant he was up at eight am and he hadn’t been up that early in years. Hank sighed, closing his eyes and laying in bed until he could build up the strength to push himself out of bed.

He had three text updates from Markus.

‘Connor has eaten, no worries.’ - 2:57am

‘The doctor’s check up went fine. We’ll discuss it later. He agreed to see Simon soon.’ – 6:23am

‘Do you know what woman he is so afraid of disappointing?’ – 7:45am

Each message reminded Hank that although he was able to get some rest last night, a lot of people were working during a snow storm to help this one kid. And it was going well by the looks of it. They had gotten Connor to eat, to see the doctor, and at least talk about someone. Someone important.

‘She’s going to hate me’ ‘You don’t how upset with me she would be.’

Hank wrinkled his nose and read that last message again. Connor didn’t sound afraid of the woman. Not with how he spoke. He was scared of the woman not being happy with him. Disappointed, upset, and hate. Connor had chosen those words, more like a worried child instead of someone who was just freed from a sex club.

There was a forth message on his phone, but this one was from Reed and Hank decided not to open it right now.

  
Hank went back at noon, just like he promised. Simon was the one to greet him. Hank knew he was Simon because he introduced himself when Hank came in. He must stand out, he’s greeted by a stranger as soon as he walks through the door.

“So I take it he accepted the lawyer.” Hank asked.

Simon grimaced a bit as they walked upstairs to the offices, Hank trying to keep pace. “In a sense. He told me he would appreciate my help and he signed things after I gave them to him, but he didn’t seem to fully understand that I’m here to help him say no to things if he wants to.” Simon said.

Hank wrinkled his nose, about to ask what the fuck they were having the kid sign when they walked into an office. The lights were off. North’s head was pillowed on her arms, which were crossed on her desk. Connor was on the couch, face hidden in the cushions and his hair barely visible from under the blanket.

They only peeked their head in before Simon was backing back out again. “They’ve been asleep for a few hours. It’s been an exhausting night and a lot of these things were very time sensitive.”

Hank stared at the door for a moment before shifting his gaze to the closed blinds of the window. “It’s noon.”

“Yes. It’s one of the things we should discuss in my office.” Simon said, pointing to one down the hall.

Everyone here had a similar backstory. Not identical, some in more dangerous circumstances than others, but they all had similarities. Markus’s story was famous, but significantly less tragic. Everyone knew that Markus had things comparatively okay, it made them more comfortable in the face of the issue to have him as the figurehead.

Simon seemed very professional and stable. Hank wondered about his story.

“So, Connor insists that he should leave with you once you get back. We have that in his own writing.” Simon said once they were in their seats. Hank didn’t know if he should be surprised or not. Connor hated him, but he also had a messed up idea of who owned him and who didn’t.

“What does that mean?” Hank asked.

“That means Connor has agreed to stay in your care, with the condition that he can speak up against anything you decide. And that we make his meetings with North twice a week. If he misses a meeting then someone will come by the house to do a safety check. Probably North. That is your single warning on that matter.” Simon said, letting out a huff that almost sounded like a tired laugh.

“Okay. He’ll be safe with me. I promise.” Hank said. Sumo would smother the kid. That was the only danger.

“Okay. Now he ate earlier today so he likely won’t eat again for a while. Let him have small snacks. His stomach can’t handle too much. Give him a basic list of rules. Nothing serious, just something to give him a bit of structure, ease him into the new living environment. Just be careful with him.” Simon said. Hank nodded along to everything. Making mental notes out of all of it. He had a dozen questions, but he didn’t know the right way to ask them. “That’s just everything North wanted me to tell you while she rests. There’s still a lot of legal issues to discuss.”

“Oh fuck. Okay. Give me a minute to process this.” Hank said, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Okay.”

Simon waited another moment before continuing, waiting until Hank had breathed out a tired sigh. Five hours of sleep was not enough considering what a mess this all was.

“North will discuss these things more when you bring him in for a meeting on Wednesday. The tests from the doctor should be back then.” Simon said with a nod. “Legally, Connor doesn’t exist. He has nothing but a first name. No birth records, no social security number, no idea where he came from. Or if he does, he isn’t telling us. What he did agree to was sign over a lot of his care to you? Normally I wouldn’t recommend it, but Connor insisted that you know everything. I told him that was fine.”

“What does that mean?” Hank asked.

“That means that Connor can’t get a job, can’t apply for benefits or special aid, can’t get a bank account or a drivers license or go to college. I can help him get some form of government ID, but the process can take a long time since he doesn’t seem to have a birth record.” Simon said. “He signed over his care to you, you’re gonna need to put your signature on anything he needs. Are you ready for that?”

“I wasn’t ready for any of this, but it’s how shit turned out, isn’t it.” Hank said. He knew he had more sleep than anyone her in Jericho, but he still felt too tired for this. He felt exhausted. This whole case had been draining him from the start. “How long was Connor in that place?”

“We don’t know. He hasn’t said.” Simon said. He was pulling flyers out of a drawer of his desk and putting them in a neat pile. “I’m giving you some information on resources. Jericho has a few group meetings available, I’m sure being with people who share experiences with him will help. And a pamphlet on things you can do to help him settle down. Connor’s a smart man, he read every paper I gave him, he has copies of these if you lose yours.”

Hank took it all, barely looking at any of it before trying to shove all of it into his pockets in a way that it will all fit. Likely all wrinkled and torn, but all there. He followed Simon out of the room and back down the hall to North’s office. It was still dark and when Simon opened the door all he could hear was soft breathing.

Simon put a hand up to have Hank wait in the hall and then slipped inside. Hank stood there, shifting from foot to foot and praying for a drink. When he got home he was going to have to reunite with that bottle. He may never go a night without drinking again. Being sober for last night had left him with a pounding headache and a sick feeling.

Simon came back out with Connor, helping the kid stand on his own two feet as he swayed and pulled his blanket tight around his shoulders. Connor’s nose was wrinkled, his eyes hooded and he leaned too far to on side.

“Connor wanted to go with you when you get here and we’re not in the business of keeping people against their will. Just bring him back on Wednesday or North will kill you.” Simon said.

Hank nodded, reaching out to Connor and almost sighed in relief when he walked towards him. “Hello Hank. It’s me, Connor.” He whispered.

“Hello Connor.” Hank said, putting one hand on Connor’s shoulder and leading him down the hall.

“I can’t work right now. North said I didn’t have to.” Connor said. “I’m sick.”

“I believe you.” Hank said.

“You will tell them I was good though?”

They walked outside and Connor stopped dead, whole body freezing up and eyes wide as he looked up at the sky. It was snowing a lot lighter this time, small specks of fluffy looking snow drifting down. Connor pulled his blanket around himself tighter.

Hank was willing to wait as long as Connor needed, let him take it all in. He had no idea when was the last time Connor had been outside before last night and Hank wasn’t going to cut it short. Connor’s head dropped down to his feet. He had different shoes on, these ones looked well suited for the weather. Thick snow boots instead of the soft shoes he had on the night before. His feet shifted, stamping the fresh snow down under his boots.

Connor walked back to the car, stopping every few feet to look around. Hank only had to sit in the driver’s side for a few minutes before Connor figured out which seat he wanted to get into.

“You’re taking me back.” Connor said once he had pulled his seatbelt over himself. “This was a kind gesture but I have to be returned now.”

“Wrong. I’m going home.” Hank said. His phone as ringing again. He ignored it.

“You have to take me back.”

Hank turned on the radio. The volume was low enough to not startle the kid, but the loud banging of drums and guitar surprised him. Connor leaned back, his face turning to the window. He didn’t say anything else, but the music made sure it wasn’t an awkward silence.

Connor was asleep again before they made it home. He didn’t wake up fully when Hank helped him out of the car and up the front steps. Hank fiddled with the keys and groaned when he heard the loud banging of Sumo running to the door and knocking something over.

“Down Sumo! No!” Hank grunted, trying to put himself between the dog and Connor.

He managed to get Connor onto the couch, where he burrowed into the blanket again. He had cleaned the house a bit before he went back to Jericho for Connor, but it didn’t seem like enough. The couch still smelled like dog, the wallpaper was permanently yellowed, and he couldn’t get rid of the rattling of the heater.

Connor didn’t notice a thing. He just slept. He didn’t move a muscle when Sumo came over to sniff his head, he didn’t make a sound when Sumo went to the back door and barked to be let out. Hank threw another blanket over the kid and left him alone. Sumo ran around the back yard, turning the snow into mush. Hank had mopped the floors but that dog was intent on getting it muddy again.

The bottle was waiting for him on the counter. As was the photo. Another regret. He let Cole push him to doing a messy rescue. He regretted leaving the photo on the counter next to the bottle, where Cole could see how far he had fallen. He put the photo back in the drawer, face down and hiding it from view. He put the gun on top of it and shut it with a slam. Connor didn’t even flinch. Hank might have worried the kid had died if it wasn’t for the small movements of the blanket shifting up and down as he breathed.

His phone rang again. Reed’s contact name flashing as it vibrated. Hank ignored it and tossed it onto the counter, opening the bottle. Whatever Reed was going to say, he could regret that later as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whats wild is I started this fic on the 22nd and its only the 26th  
> anti-depressants are wild  
> :)


	7. Chapter 7

Connor woke up around six that evening. Hank watched from the kitchen as he yelped and covered his head with his arms. This wasn’t something to worry about, if the kid was startled by Sumo laid out on top of him then the initial shock and fear wouldn’t last. Connor said he liked dogs. He knew everything about them. Hank just took another drink.

“Hi. Hello…Sumo.” Connor said slowly, barely peeking out from under his blanket and the shield of his arms. Sumo adjusted himself, mouth open and panting with his tongue out, tail swinging back and forth happily. He was too comfortable on top of the kid to be getting up again. “I know your name. I’m a friend. I’m Connor.”

Hank smiled to himself, refilling his glass. This was it. Connor’s first time meeting Sumo and if Hank knew correctly, Connor’s first time meeting an actual dog that wasn’t a picture in a book. Connor laid there and looked up at Sumo as if he was trying to read his mind, just silently staring with a small frown. Hank finally took pity on the kid and clapped his hands together. Sumo immediately jumped off of the couch and ran to the kitchen, tail wagging so fiercely the dog’s whole body wiggled back and forth.

“You like our guest, don’t you? He let you sleep on him for a few hours without getting mad.” He scratched the dog behind the ear until Sumo sat down and rested his head on Hank’s knees.

Connor took his time. He sat up on the couch and looked around slowly. Hank would give another thousand dollars just to know what that kid was thinking. It was a mess, but the floors weren’t concrete and there were actually windows. Hank wondered if Connor was alright on the couch or if he missed his old bed, the bed he had to share with anyone who wanted to pay a few hundred for an hour of his time. Or Connor could be indifferent. A place to sleep is a place to sleep after all.

Connor folded the blanket and held it in his hands for a moment, looking around for a place to put it. He kept glancing towards the kitchen, standing perfectly still and waiting, until he started looking around again. Eventually Connor put it on the couch cushion and walked into the kitchen.

“Hello Hank.” Connor said. He stood by the table, arms loose at his side, eyes on the glass sitting in Hank’s hands.

“Good morning.” Hank said, lifting the glass to his lips hoping to get Connor to look up at him. It didn’t work.

“It’s evening now, Hank.” Connor said. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, eyes focused on Hank’s hands and the glass wrapped around it.

“Would you like a drink?” Hank asked. Connor frowned and shook his head. “Then have seat. There’s leftover pizza in the fridge, you can eat it.”

Connor nodded. He looked at the fridge, but stayed in that spot. Hank would kill to know what he was thinking. His hand started tapping against his leg, fast and continuous, again and again. It was the only part of Connor that moved. Everything else was frozen in place, watching the fridge as if it would open up and swallow him if he got close to it.

“Go get some food, Connor.” Hank said.

“North fed me earlier. I’m alright.” Connor said.

“That was what, at four in the morning? It’s been all goddamn day. Go get some food. You are allowed to have food.” Hank said.

Connor nodded, taking a small step towards the fridge. And then another. Hank didn’t even have to tell Connor to get a plate. The kid just grabbed one from the dish drainer and then reached into the fridge. By the time he had gotten back with his single slice of pizza, Hank had to pour himself another drink.

“Am I staying here now?” Connor asked.

“If you want. Now eat.” Hank said. Connor didn’t touch his pizza.

“Will I sleep there?” Connor glanced back at the living room, at his lonely blanket folded up neatly on the couch. Jericho had given him that blanket. Jericho had given him new clothes too by the looks of it. Connor’s clothes last night were thin and tight, cut out for dancing and moving and to be easily removable. Connor’s clothes now were more cut out for the weather. He had on thick socks, mismatched but fluffy and in tact. The grey sweatpants were standard, but his sweater was a few sizes too big and a god awful shade of lilac with a flower patch stitched onto the front pocket.

“If you want.” Hank said.

Connor didn’t seem satisfied with that answer either. He huffed softly. “Am I sleeping on the couch?”

“Fine. Yes. Unless you want to stay at a Jericho shelter.” Hank said. He threw back his drink, letting it all fall down his throat before slamming the glass down on the table and pouring himself another. Connor watched in fascination. “Or, you can do whatever you want, but given that you haven’t been out in the world for a few years you might be safer here or with Jericho. Detroit can get fucked up, especially when you don’t know where to go.”

Connor nodded, not seeming at all put off by the idea. At this point Hank wasn’t sure if sleeping on the streets would count as an improvement to what he had before. He wasn’t in a position to decide that though.

“Couch is always free if you want to stay here.” Hank said.

“I appreciate the offer Hank. I will be more than fine on the couch.” Connor said. The kid’s eyes were always moving, looking everywhere except for Hank’s face. He was taking it all in, analyzing the way the linoleum in the corners had started to curl, or how Sumo had scratched off all the paint on the wall by the back door. Or the dishes, sitting dirty and forgotten in the sink next to the ones that have been sitting in the dish drainer or few days. “What would you like me to do?”

“Nothing.” Hank said.

“I may not be an expert on how people interact, but I know when they want something from me. You have gone through a lot of trouble to get me here, I would like to know why.” Connor said.

“I want you to eat that pizza.” Hank said.

Connor seemed surprised, looking down at his plate as if he was seeing it for the first time. His eyebrows pulled together and he tilted his head to the side. “That’s a reasonable request.” He decided, finally picking up his food.

Hank rolled his eyes. He needed more than what he had left in the bottle. He would go to Jimmy’s later. He would drink his heart out until he figured out what the fuck he was going to do now. He was in over his head. He had agreed to basically be the legal guardian of a confused kid who needed permission to get a fucking piece of pizza. He was already exhausted.

“What would you like me to do after?” Connor asked. He nibbled his food, taking small bites, mouth moving like a rabbit.

“Nothing.”

Connor’s eyes drifted back to the mostly empty bottle. There was more liquor in Hank’s glass than there was in the bottle at this point. What was Connor thinking? Was he afraid. Was he worried? Did he want a drink? Did he want Hank to stop drinking?

“I’m going out soon. Can you and Sumo handle yourself here for a while?” Hank said. It would be fine. Connor was an adult, he can stay in the house for a few hours.

“Yes.” Connor said. “What would you like me to do while you’re gone?”

“Well, I guess take Sumo out to the backyard if he barks at the door.” Hank said. Rules, Simon had said earlier. Connor was overwhelmed and needed the stability of rules. Nothing serious. Safe and basic rules. “Read any books on the shelf, you can tell me about them when I get home. And you’re allowed to use the tv for any show you want to watch. Just don’t go snooping through drawers. And the closed door in the hallway, don’t go in there either.”

That was fine. Those were good rules. Stay out of Cole’s room and stay out of the drawer Hank keeps his gun in. Connor would survive right here. The kid nodded along quickly as Hank listed it off.

“I understand.” Connor said.

“Are you this procedural with everyone else?” Hank asked. Connor finally looked up, his eyes meeting Hank’s for only a moment before dropping down to his chin. “You know, you’re like a robot. Going through the motions, waiting for instructions, completely calm all the time. The most emotion I ever got from you was when I took you. You were afraid!” Connor had fought him, all the way down the hall and up the stairs. The scrapes on his hands and elbows must have been patched up by Jericho.

“I’m sorry Hank. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“That’s the point. Say what you want to say.” Hank said. He slammed his glass down again and he saw Connor flinch, such a slight movement that Hank wondered if he had even seen it at all or if he was making it up.

“My purpose is to make people happy. I don’t know how to do that. I’m not good at it. So I ask for what you want. I’m sorry.” Connor said.

“Jesus, Connor. I’m trying here but you’re not giving me a lot to work with.” Hank said. He let go of his glass and rubbed a hand down his face tiredly. “How about this. You do what you think will make me happy and I promise to come home happy with you.”

“It’s a trick.” Connor said. He said it firmly and confidently and Hank had to laugh.

“It’s not a trick.”

“It is Hank, because you’re a liar. You want something from me. Just ask, I’ll give it to you.” Connor said. His lips curled into that same smile he wore in that basement room. “Do you want me? I can make you feel good. Isn’t that why you brought me here? I bet I would look really pretty in your bed.”

Connor said the words, but they almost seemed disconnected from himself. Hank saw Connor’s mouth move with the sounds and he had been in enough interrogations to know when there was no emotion in the words. Nothing at all. Like a script that had been prepared in advance.

“No, Connor.” Hank said.

“I can moan if you want. Or cry. Or scream and beg. You want me to show more emotion, I can give you any emotion you want, just tell me.” Connor said.

Hank stood up so fast his chair fell backwards and clattered against the floor. Sumo barked at it, body pointed at it like an attack and growling low in his throat as if the chair was a threat. Hank sighed, glaring at his empty bottle. Sumo was going to be afraid of that chair forever now.

“I want you to take care of my fucking dog. I have to go now.” Hank said. He couldn’t right now. He wasn’t prepared. He couldn’t handle it.

Hank hated these kinds of cases. He never asked for them. He should have told Reed to fuck off as soon as he came asking for help. Hank grabbed his coat, his hand lingering by his car keys until he decided to just walk instead. He had fucked everything else up at this point, dying in a drunk driving accident would be icing on the cake. He would get someone else’s kid killed then. Hank closed the door behind him and just walked. He didn’t look back. He didn’t want to see if Connor was looking out the window at him, or watching the snow again, or if he was still sitting at that table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank is not having a great time tonight


	8. Chapter 8

Hank was frozen to the bone by the time he had made it to Jimmy’s. He stepped inside, shook the snow off of himself, and walked down towards his usual stool. It was only eight o’clock and he already felt like the night was half over. He was exhausted. He sank into his seat and wished he was allowed to rest his head on the counter and fall asleep.

“You look like shit, Hank.” Jimmy said. Hank smiled to himself when he heard the sound of a glass being placed on the counter in front of him and liquor being poured into it.

“I feel like shit, Jimmy. Work’s been putting me through the ringer the past few months.” Hank said. It was the exact same whiskey he had at home, but here at Jimmy’s it tasted better. It almost felt refreshing. “Not that it matters. I fucked up the case anyway.”

“Want to tell me about it or is it something super secret that you’ll tell me after a few rounds anyway.” Jimmy said.

It was easy here. The conversations flowed like they were supposed to. Hank felt like he was talking to an actual person instead of a wooden plank with a face on it. Connor was complicated. Hank wondered if the boy was broken to the point he couldn’t be fixed. What if that’s just how Connor was going to be, waiting around for instructions or orders until someone came around with bad intentions. Is that what Connor wanted?

Once the small talk had ended, Hank focused on his drink. Jimmy was good at making sure his glass was filled, Hank was good for it. If Jimmy kept his glass full then he would pay his tab without issue. It was their silent agreement. A partnership in the best way a customer and bartender could be.

Hank drank until he sank further and further down into his seat. It didn’t take long, he had started the night early after all. He drank slower. There weight of Connor’s time limit was replaced by the weight of Connor’s company. He was far more work than Hank knew how to handle. Maybe he should give the boy to Reed, he’s the one who wanted him anyway.

Hank grimaced. He didn’t like the idea of giving the kid over. It felt wrong. Reed was a good detective, but that kid wouldn’t last a second with him.

“I knew you had to show up eventually.”

Hank squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the disgust in his stomach only grow.

“Fuck off Reed before I vomit on you.” Hank said, hunching over his glass again.

“Of course, that’s your grand act as a self-made alcoholic. The show stopper for you.” Reed said, sneering as he slid into the seat next to Hank at the counter. “Why would I want to miss that? I gave you a thousand dollars for a fucking show after all.”

“Can this wait until morning? Trust me, it’s best if it waits until morning.” Hank said.

“This can’t wait another goddamn minute, Anderson. I’ve been working this for almost a year! I don’t have any time left.” Reed hissed, leaning in closer to him as his voice lowered. “I worked every single one of these clubs until I got too recognizable. All you had to do was make contact and get me the info I needed. I’ve been pulling together the funding your visits to that fucking whore to get your dick wet and after last night I need some results.”

“You want results? Oh boy, do I have results for ya.” Hank said. He threw back the last of his drink and went fishing for his wallet. Hank swayed in his seat until Jimmy came back with his card and his receipt. “Got gotta car, right?”

Reed did have a car. Hank was relieved. He got to sit in something somewhat warm instead of walking through the snow in the freezing cold to get back home. Hank was too drunk to care anymore. Reed had to find out eventually, might as well be when he was too drunk to give a shit. He was just going to bypass the regret this time and head straight into apathy.

The house didn’t look broken into or burnt down at all. No strange cars and the lights were on inside. Hank took all of that and assumed Connor had survived a few hours alone with Sumo. He gave Reed a toothy grin and climbed out of his car, marching sluggishly up to his front door.

“So, I need you to relax once we get in here.” Hank said, giving Reed a thumbs up before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

Connor was sitting on the floor. A few books were open on the table in front of him but his eyes were on the tv. Somehow, Connor had become so engrossed in a tv program about what looked a fish that he hadn’t heard them come in.

“What the fuck?” Reed snapped.

Sumo barked, running in from the kitchen and jumping up, paws on Hank’s chest, licking his face like he wanted to devour it. The commotion had snatched Connor’s attention from the tv and he all but jumped to his feet.

“Relax. Everyone’s a bit jumpy.” Hank said.

“Relax?! Anderson, is that him? Please tell me there’s not a whore standing in your living room right now.” Reed spoke quickly, moving closer to Hank and gripping the front of his jacket tightly, moving Hank towards the wall. “Shut up! What the fuck is he doing here?”

Hank’s back was slammed against the back of the door. “God damn, Sumo. Attack.” Hank said. Sumo didn’t listen. He just licked at Hank’s hand for attention, completely oblivious to the fact that Hank had been shoved against the front door in a threat display. “Okay. Fine. Reed, you know that grand you gave me last night?”

“Did you fucking buy him off them or something?” Reed asked.

“Uh…” Hank peeked over Reed’s shoulder at Connor. The kid stood tall, his hands hanging loosely at his sides and he met Hank’s eye for the first time all night. Perhaps if Hank told him to attack, then Connor would. Sumo was a shit attack dog but Connor had been asking for instructions all day. It was tempting, but Hank decided against it. His drunk brain decided the truth was too complicated as well. “Yes, I did.”

The hands gripping his jacket let him go and Hank stayed leaning against the door for support. Reed stared at him, mouth hanging open slightly until he looked back at Connor.

“Hi, my name is Connor. Hank brought me here to stay with him.” Connor said as soon as Reed looked his way.

“Holy shit.” Reed said. He looked back at Hank. “Is he going to talk?”

“Well, he has a lawyer now and he refuses to speak without his lawyer present. So come back tomorrow.” Hank said, smiling to himself. He was clever when he was drunk.

“How the fuck did he get a lawyer?”

“I took him to Jericho.”

Reed’s mouth fell open again, his hands curling into fists. Hank thought it was hilarious. He laughed. He had to laugh. This whole situation was absolutely hilarious and at this point all he could do was laugh.

“Have you lost your mind?” Reed said.

Hank didn’t answer. He pushed himself off of the door and walked into his own living room, ready to plop down on his own couch. Connor kept standing. Hank got his first good look at him since getting home. Connor’s hair stood up a bit, as if he had been running his hands through it. His sweater was significantly more wrinkled. He had a hand on his chest, tapping his fingers.

“What did you do while I was gone?” Hank asked.

Connor perked up a bit, nodding to himself as he looked around. “I did the dishes, mopped the kitchen, scrubbed the bathroom, dusted, and organized your bookshelf. I was going to do more, but at that point I remembered that you said that I was allowed to read and watch tv, so I tried that next.”

Hank laughed again. He didn’t know why he was the only one laughing. Today was hilarious. “I am very happy that you read and watched tv. Cleaning is nice too but that’s not why I brought you here.”

Connor’s eyebrows drew together again as he frowned. It was his confused face, Hank decided. He was either drunk or he was getting better at reading the slight changes in Connor’s face. If confusion counted as an emotion then it was a huge improvement.

“Come back tomorrow. Connor, tell Reed you will talk to him tomorrow.” Hank said. Hew as tired. He needed to sleep. He needed to not be here anymore. Not today. He was done with today.

“It was a pleasure meeting you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodbye.” Connor said.

Reed huffed, pointing a finger at Connor. “I don’t take orders from some low shit like you. You’re going to talk now.”

“Reed, for fuck’s sake the kid spends every moment on the verge of a panic attack and if you push him too far then he’s never going to speak to you again. There goes all that dumb info you wanted.” Hank said. He either needed to sleep or he needed another drink and the longer Reed was here the more it felt like it was the drink.

For a moment Hank thought that Reed was going to start throwing punches. If he hit the kid, Hank would have to fight him. Beating the shit out of Reed sounded like a good time, but he would rather do it sober where he could feel his punches.

“This is it, Anderson. You’re done after this. You fucked up beyond repair and not even Fowler can get you out of this.” Reed said. He swung the door open. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

The door shut with a loud slam that seemed to shake the whole house. Hank groaned loudly, sinking deeper into the couch cushions and finally giving in to pet Sumo. The dog had been begging for a head pat since Hank walked through the door. Connor stayed in his spot, watching the door intently as if it was going to move.

“I cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom.” Connor said.

Hank nodded. He couldn’t decide if he wanted a beer or if he wanted to just go to sleep. Sleep was the better idea. He could turn in early for the night.

“I took care of Sumo like you asked. I gave him food and water and let him outside.” Connor said, turning away from the door to face Hank. He stayed standing in spot.

“Thanks. Mission accomplished. Good job.” Hank said. Connor smiled, a soft curl of his lips and it almost looked genuine. Perhaps it was. Hank decided to save that for a more sober line of thinking. Connor liked that.

“You have a book on DNA analysis.” Connor said, pointing to one on the table. “The first few chapters are about the discovery of DNA structures, it had photographs of the x-ray image that revealed that DNA has a double helix shape.”

“What are you talking about?” Hank asked.

“You told me to read and tell you about it when you got back.” Connor said.

“Tomorrow! Didn’t we just tell Reed we will talk tomorrow. I can’t listen to books right now.” Hank said. He leaned back against the couch, sinking into it, his head lulling to one side.

Connor nodded, looking at Hank and then at the books. Hank watched as Connor started to pick up the books and put them back onto the shelf, sliding them into their place with easy and making sure they were all straight and even. He was taking his time. Hank ended up staring at Connor’s back, waiting for him to turn back around once he was done. Even when Connor’s hands fell down to his sides he didn’t turn back to face Hank.

“We can call Simon in the morning. He should be there when Reed interrogates you.” Hank said. He pushed himself to stand up and stretched until his back popped. He needed sleep.

“What do you want me to tell him tomorrow?” Connor asked.

“The truth. I don’t care. Just tell him.” Hank walked towards the bathroom, already pulling off his damp, dirty shirt and tossing it in the direction of the hamper. Yes, Connor had definitely cleaned in here. The tiles actually shined. He didn’t want to waste time brushing his teeth, he would end up throwing up if he tried. He rinsed out his mouth with water and just walked towards his room, shutting the door tight behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor likes fish and DNA and being a good boy
> 
> Hank is struggling


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a writing machine
> 
> would you believe the next chapter is already almost ready to publish

“What the fuck!?” Hank woke up with a start, arm swinging out to swipe at whoever was shaking him awake. “Connor?”

“Good morning, Hank.” Connor said. He stood by the bed, still in that ugly lilac sweater, hair neatly combed back except for a few strands that fell back over his forehead. “When would you like me to call Simon? I don’t know when your friend is going to come back.”

Hank stared at Connor for a moment, trying to decide if he was being serious or not. He let out an exasperated sigh and fell back against his pillow. “Fuck off.” Hank said. He regretted it immediately, seeing how the kid’s face stayed neutral but his shoulders slumped a bit. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to breath and wake up before he said anything else.

“It’s eight in the morning. I assumed that was an appropriate time to wake up.”

“Eight in the fucking morning. Jesus, kid. How early did you wake up?” Hank said. He needed to wake up. He needed to get into the shower. His head was pounding and he felt like if h sat up right now anything he had in his stomach would come right back up.

“I haven’t slept.” Connor said.

Hank frowned, lifting his head up a bit. Connor looked tired, but about as tired as anyone would feel when they just got off work. Which was what this time was. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed it before, it was obvious. Connor had no windows in his room in that basement, he didn’t know if it was dark out or not. All Connor knew was that he worked for half the day and slept for the other half. Connor’s work was considered night work.

“What did you do all night?” Hank asked. He sat up, closing his eyes and swayed for a moment.

“Nothing. I just waited.” Connor said. “I thought now was a good time to wake you up. I apologize for the early hour. I didn’t realize.”

Connor sounded tired too. He looked over his shoulder at the hallway, looking like he wanted to run away. Hank felt another pit of regret in his stomach, more guilt.

Hank stood up and walked mindlessly to the shower. He could apologize once he was awake and fully sober. Last night was a mess. Hank turned the water on scolding hot, letting it turn his skin bright red as it beat against him. Hot showers always made his head stop pounding. It helped him think clearer.

He leaned his head against the tiles. “What the fuck was I thinking?” He whispered, eyes closed. He had scared Connor. It was as clear as day. He had scared him with all the liquor and yelling and fuck, he hadn’t even let the kid talk about the books he read. Hank used to bring Connor books, used to spend their hour ever few nights just listening to the kid talk to him about it.

He had given Connor a book on cold cases. Listened to the kid figure out who did it based on the flimsy forensic evidence no one had been able to figure out. Red carpet fibers, Connor had said. It was the red carpet files under the victims fingernails. It matched the carpet in the photograph of the victim’s job location. The carpet on the side of the walls of a bowling alley.

Hank had looked into it. The book was old, something his dad had given him after he got into the police academy. The case was solved a few years ago after the general manager of that bowling alley raped and murdered another employee. Red carpet fibers

Hank had listened. Why couldn’t he be bothered to listen last night? He was drunk. It would have been easy. He turned off the shower and pulled on the same sweatpants he wore to bed. He could start his apology with breakfast at least. Or dinner, if he wanted to go by Connor’s schedule.

“We are going to get you on a proper sleep schedule. Sleep at night. You’ll love it.” Hank said as he stepped back out into the hallway.

Connor was sitting on the couch. His blanket was still folded on the couch. The books were still neatly placed on the shelf. The tv was off. Connor was just sitting there, staring at his hands, fingers strumming back and forth.

“Have you eaten yet? I make a mean breakfast casserole if not.” Hank offered. The first thing he did as he walked into the kitchen was turn on the coffee pot. “I’m feeling lazy so it won’t all be homemade, but gravy from a can is as good as gravy from scratch.”

Connor didn’t answer, not until Hank turned back and called his name again. The kid seemed lost in thought, intently focused on some faraway spot on the wall and the patting of his fingers.

“I haven’t eaten since you gave me pizza.” Connor said.

“That was like twelve hours ago.” Hank said, he even got some food at the bar. Nothing memorable, but he was drunk and it was greasy.

“You didn’t tell me what else I could have. I didn’t know what food was yours.” Connor said. He looked over to Hank, eyebrows drawn together but his eyes seemed more focused on the present at least. “I did it wrong again, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Connor.” Hank said. Another regret. This was his fault.

“I did everything wrong. You were upset with me.” Connor said.

“No, I wasn’t. I was drunk.” Hank said.

“I am supposed to make you happy. You were so vague. I thought if I cleaned.. if I took care of Sumo. I read the books.” Connors said. He looked so lost. His eyes were moving back and forth, searching for an answer.

“Connor. Connor, you’re okay.” Hank said. He walked back into the living room, moving slow. Connor wasn’t paying attention. He wasn’t quite here. “You were good last night. My bathroom is so clean. And Sumo is such a happy boy because you were there to take care of him.” Hank said.

Connor frowned, his nose wrinkling slightly. “I was?”

“Of course. I’m sorry for being vague, but I am so proud of you.” Hank said, standing a few feet away, worried he would somehow make this worse once again.

Connor’s eyes drifted back up to Hank’s, only for a second before dropping down again to some other point on the man’s face. Hank took a few more steps closer. Connor’s body curled inward, shoulders hunched.

“Yes. Last night I drank too much and couldn’t keep up with what your book was about. Why don’t you tell me about it right now while I make breakfast?” It wasn’t enough. Hank didn’t know what to do with this kid. He didn’t know how deep the trauma ran or what might set him off. He didn’t have much control over what he said when he was drunk and he didn’t think he could just stop drinking.

He walked into the kitchen, giving Connor the space he needed to decide if he wanted to follow him or not. Hank had started to chop up the potatoes when Connor wandered in, book held tightly against his chest. “The second part is about the three main functions of DNA. To form proteins and RNA, to exchange genetic material, and to facilitate occurring mutations. The next part of the book is about DNA extraction. I haven’t read it yet.”

Connor stood in the entryway, not quite in the kitchen but not quite in the living room either. He was watching Hank’s hands as the knife diced the potatoes, clicking against the cutting board. Hank didn’t stop, he didn’t change speed, he let Connor watch him and decide for himself if it was safe or not. Connor took a step forward, socked feet settling firmly on the linoleum tiles.

“That’s cool. How many more books do we have on DNA? I can get you more.” Hank said. He didn’t understand a word, but he wanted to actually try today. He didn’t want to fuck the kid up more.

“You have four more, and then a few on forensics and crime scenes that I want to read. I’m interesting to see how blood and DNA solve cases.” Connor asked, finally taking a seat ta the table.

“Yeah, I got a lot of books like that. I can bring more from the station if you want.” Hank said.

“The station?”

“Yeah, the station. Where I work.” Hank said.

“Oh.” Connor said, almost like a hum. Hank looked back at Connor. He was once again deep in thought, fingers tapping against the cover of the book. “She wouldn’t have sold me to a police officer.”

“She didn’t know I was a cop. Just like she didn’t know I wasn’t fucking you.” Hank said.

“She did know. I told her about you.” Connor said. “She said I should try harder to interest you.”

Hank’s hands stilled, frozen sausage in hand and a cold skillet in the other, ready to quickly fry it up before adding it on top of the potatoes in the baking dish. “Who is she?” Hank said. Whoever this woman was who had such a fucked up control over Connor, she knew about him. Connor had told her something and she was someone who wasn’t supposed to know about him.

He looked at Connor again, surprised to see Connor staring back. Hank knew Connor wasn’t going to tell him. He valued this woman more than anything else. Even when he was faced with violence and abuse his biggest fears were her disappointment.

‘You don’t know how upset with me she would be.’

Hank turned back to the food. Connor didn’t say anything else and Hank didn’t want to push for answers. He didn’t want to screw this up again. If the kid was going to survive in the world like real people do, then Hank had to get this kid to trust him. Hank had to at least help support the kid he stole.

Connor opened the book and continued reading until Hank had his breakfast casserole in the oven. Potatoes, sausage, bacon, gravy, cheese and eggs, all layered in a baking dish and topped with biscuit dough, all of it would bake together and be delicious. Hank never made this anymore. It was too much food and too much effort for just one person to eat alone.

  
Simon showed up at ten, Reed at eleven. They sat around the kitchen table drinking watery coffee and waiting to break the tension. They all had food in a bowl in front of them, Hank was the only one eating. Reed’s eyes stared at Connor, drilling into him with more anger than Hank thought was necessary. Reed was the one who picked the kid, Hank was the one who stole him, and Connor was the least at fault.

“This isn’t official police business yet. It took a lot of work and a lot of fucking money to get everyone to this table. I need you to answer my questions.” Reed said, breaking the silence and leaning across the table, pointing a finger at Connor’s face.

Connor looked at Reed and then looked over to Simon. “One of the rules is that I don’t have to talk.” Connor said.

“Not rules, rights. You have the right to remain silent. That means you can’t get in trouble for not saying anything.” Simon said. The man’s smile was soft, Connor seemed to like that. Hank watched as Connor sat up a little bit straighter.

“Yeah, if this was official police business. Is it unconstitutional to beat the shit out of a hooker in front of his lawyer. No.” Reed said.

“Reed, quit being a fucking dick in my house.” Hank said quickly.

Reed snapped his mouth shut and turned his glare to Hank. It was funny to watch the kid squirm, his gaze turning to all three of the others at the table. Hank could only imagine how uncomfortable he must feel. There was only one way to run an interrogation when you’re outnumbered three to on. It was to be the biggest asshole in the room. Reed didn’t like being outnumbered, he caved too easily.

“I need names. I need locations. I need job details, living conditions, facial details. I have given so much time and money into getting just to you. I need it to pay off.” Reed said, his fist banging down onto the table with each listed demand.

“My name is Connor.”

The table shook with Reed’s fist this time. “Don’t play smart with me! Do you want to go back there or do you want to shut this place down?”

“I want to go back.” Connor said, not missing a beat of the conversation. “Hank stole me. He didn’t buy me. I’m not supposed to be out here. He’s a thief.”

The kitchen was quiet for a moment, all of them sitting in a stunned silence as they all took in Connor’s words. How could they convince the kid to talk when he didn’t want to be free in the first place. Hank sighed, dropping his fork back into his bowl and pointing at Connor’s.

“Eat. We will be right back.” Hank said, standing up from the kitchen table and marching to the living room, waving for the others to follow him. Reed pushed back from his seat and followed, Simon took a moment longer, leaning towards Connor and whispering softly to the kid. Hank felt another pang of regret. Why didn’t he stop to make sure Connor was okay?

Once the three of them were in the living room and Hank could see Connor eating, bringing small forkfuls up to his mouth. Connor seemed to like it, eyebrows shooting up after that first bite and then all of his attention was pulled to the food.

“We can’t do this today.” Hank said. Connor needed a lot, he needed time and therapy and to feel safe. “He’s not going to betray those people. Whoever ‘she’ is, Connor doesn’t want to make her upset. He wants her to be happy with him. He’s more worried about that then anything we could do to him.”

“So, he’s just not going to talk?” Reed said, hands on his waist, head cocking to the kitchen where Connor was starting to take bigger bites.

“Not at the moment. For him he doesn’t think freedom is worth the risk you’re asking him to take.” Simon said. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of Connor. “I know you’ve done a lot of work on this case detective and I know this is all a serious matter, but the only thing that will happen if we push too hard he’s going get hurt.”

Hank’s ears rang. His head still ached and his stomach was sloshing around from all the stress. He had done interrogations before. He yelled at people, threatened them, Reed had gotten physical at times. Hank’s professional instincts kept telling him to push for the info but he looked back into the kitchen and saw Connor scooping at the gravy at the bottom of his bowl and licking the spoon. If Connor would talk then would be safe, but Hank knew that Connor didn’t even know what safe meant.

“I agree with Simon.” Hank said, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. He wanted the case solved and over with, he wanted Reed to leave him the fuck alone, he didn’t want to worry about them finding Connor again. But Hank didn’t want to regret hurting him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor likes DNA  
> Hank has sober thoughts  
> Everyone else is trying to do their job


	10. Chapter 10

“I was relieved the drug screening came back clean. There’s no blood diseases we need to worry about. However, your iron and good cholesterol are very low.” North said, sharing the doctor’s report with them.

Hank had made sure they were on time today. He had spent the past few days trying to create a somewhat healthy sleep and eating schedule for the kid. It was Simon’s idea and Hank was trying. Now Connor falls asleep at four in the afternoon instead of noon. Hank still had to insist every time he wanted to give Connor food.

“You’re underweight and malnourished so they want to get you on some special diet and vitamins. Will that be alright?” North said. Connor looked to Hank, eyes drawn together as if waiting for him to give the answer.

“I’ll feed him whatever he needs.” Hank said.

Connor nodded and North continued. Connor’s health was a mess, but it wasn’t anything that would kill him right away and nothing contagious for others. It was good, Hank felt another small rush of relief. Three was a thousand different things that could have happened to Connor and by some miracle he had a chance to be healthy with a lot of work.

“That also means we can safely place you in a shelter. If you would feel safer there, with twenty four hour access to resources you might need.” North said. Hank caught the fast look she sent his way, a fierceness in her eyes. She wanted to get Connor away from him.

“I’m alright.” Connor said. He was leaning over the desk to look at the paperwork. “Does Jericho do DNA testing?”

North leaned back. “No? Why? Do you want one?”

Connor shrugged, reaching out to put his fingers on the paper and pull it closer to him. They sat in silence for a minute and waited to see if Connor would say anything else on the matter. He didn’t, instead he just skimmed over the paper, finger trailing over the words and numbers. Hank smiled and shook his head.

“He’s been watching a lot of Forensic Files.” Hank said to North. “He ran out of books on the subject.”

“Get him a library card.” North said.

They waited until Connor had finished reading over the paper and pushed it back towards North’s side of the desk. Hank had taken a peek, it was all mumbo jumbo to him. He just needed a list of foods he can and cannot give the kid. He didn’t know there was such thing as good cholesterol.

“So I’m okay?” Connor said with a nod.

“Physically, you will be in time.” North said. She had such a soft voice that made everything seem easy. Hank could see Connor relax as she spoke. “But we think I would be beneficial for you to start attending some group therapy sessions we have. You can meet people who share experiences. Simon thinks you could use some extra support from our community.”

Connor looked back at Hank again. Hank just kept his eyes on the wall behind North’s head, trying to keep his face neutral. It would be a good idea. Of course Simon would want to get Connor out of the house for a bit. Hank wasn’t really cut out to be someone’s only role model on freedom.

“You want to bring me to a group?” Connor asked.

North nodded. “I lead the group on Saturdays. I think it would be nice to have you join us. And of course I would like for you to have private therapy sessions who would be able to give you one on one time for you to talk.” She said.

“I don’t understand.” Connor said.

Hank sighed. He wasn’t an expert on group therapy, or therapy in general. He had spent enough time avoiding it despite Fowler’s threats about his disciplinary record. He wasn’t sure if he should encourage Connor to go or if that would make him a hypocrite.

“I at least want you to visit group this weekend. Make connections with people. Learn about how you feel about the things we share.” North said.

Connor’s fingers drummed on the desk, lips pressing together tight as he thought. He turned and looked at Hank, waiting. Hank wanted to tell him to go. He knew if he did that Connor would. If Hank told him no then Connor wouldn’t argue. This kind of power worried Hank, he knew he was fucked up enough to create a disaster.

North turned and gave Hank a look. “Yes, I think it would be good for you.” Hank said, catching North’s slight smile.

“Okay then.” Connor said.

That seemed to be the end of the matter. North smiled and handed Connor a flyer with the location and time of the meeting. Hank would get him there. Hank would drive him all over town if it help him somehow.

“Good, now that that is settled, we were hoping you could consider GED classes. Simon is still working on getting you some form of ID, either by tracking down your birth family for a birth certificate and social security and an actual identity. That would be the easiest way, if we can find anything. Do you remember anything about how you ended up there?”

Connor shook his head. “I was always there.”

“You were always there?” North asked, folding her arms in front of her on the desk.

“Yes. She used to tell me about the day we were born. So I was always there with her.” Connor said.

Hank and North shared a look, adjusting their weight in their seats. Hank didn’t want to say a word. It wasn’t much, but Connor was sharing more with North than he had with Reed. Connor tilted his head to the side as he thought about his words.

“She was there when you were born? Is she your mother? Do you want us to help you find her again?” North asked.

Hank sat completely still. He tried to imagine Connor, too young to remember, being taken from his family and put in that place. Someone had lost their child and now he was here, hurt and relying on strangers. Hank leaned back in his seat, scared of catching Connor’s attention and breaking the line of conversation.

“No, she wasn’t. She hated it when I called her that.” Connor said. His eyebrows were drawn together, eyes daring unfocused at the papers on the desk. “Amanda didn’t like when we clung to her. We were supposed to behave. You’ll tell her I was good, won’t you?”

“Don’t worry, Connor. You’re not doing anything wrong.” North said.

“I’ve done all of it wrong. Everything. Since I got here.” Connor said, turning to look over at Hank suddenly. “We should go now. I’m tired.”

Hank looked to North, trying to figure out what the best course of action would be. He didn’t want to push too far one way or the other and have it be wrong again. North nodded and closed her folder.

“Thank you for your time Connor. I really appreciate how much you were able to tell me. Remember the meeting on Saturday.” North said.

Connor stood up and rushed out of the office. He was making an escape it seemed, stressed and overwhelmed. Hank stayed close. He didn’t want to put too much space between them just in case Connor tried something. Connor’s arms were wrapped around himself, head held high and gaze staring blankly in front of him. He wasn’t all there. Connor knew when people took a trip away from their own head, he knew better than to startle them, touch them, try to drag them out of it. He gently tried to lead Connor to the car and opened the door for him.

“Seatbelt.” Hank said.

Connor nodded, pulling it over himself and clicking them into place. He leaned back in the seat, staring out the windshield, and so Hank turned on the eat and turned the radio down low, feeling the bass and beat of the drums vibrate softly through the car. Hank pulled slowly out of the parking lot.

“She would be so mad. I’ve been gone for too long. She would be mad at me for not coming back fast enough. I need to go back.” Connor said.

Hank didn’t answer. He was never taking Connor back there. He didn’t intend to scare him this much. He had retraumatized the victim. Connor was afraid to go back but far more afraid of staying here. Hank wished he could reach out and touch him, squeeze his shoulder, offer him some support. Hank needed a drink.

He pulled into the parking lot and let Connor have his moment to gather himself and look out the window for himself. “The library?” Connor muttered.

“North had a really good idea. This building is full of books for you to read for free.” Hank said.

Connor nodded. “I know what a library is, Hank. Why are we here?”

“Because you like books.” Hank said, climbing out of the car and waiting to see if Connor would follow him.

It was a gorgeous old building, beautiful both inside and out. Hank hadn’t been in a very long time, he didn’t have the same appreciation for it as other people did, but he could understand the visual appeal.

“I’m going to get you a library card. Why don’t you start looking for what books you might like, just don’t leave the building until we find each other again.” Hank said.

Connor seemed surprised, his eyes looking over the building curiously as they made their way inside. He looked up at the ceiling, at the rows and rows of book shelves. An endless about of information for this boy to explore. Hank hoped he was making the right call. He was so worried he would say the wrong thing and teach this kid the wrong things. Hank hoped it was the right amount of freedom and rules.

Hank watched Connor walk towards a few rows of selves, reading the genre of the books at the end of every aisle. Once he was sure Connor was safely wandering through the building, he went up to the reception desk to sign up for a card. He wrote Connor’s name on the card, made up a last name and a birthday and various other details. The woman scanned a few cards and handed them to Hank. There were two keychain cards and one big one. Hank broke off one of the small one for his keys, just in case Connor lost his.

His first stop was to look in the crime books, or the science books. Connor talked about those kinds of things, he seemed interested in those books. He was half expecting to find Connor rounding a corner with stacks of books in his arms at any moment. Hank looked down the aisle past murder mysteries and didn’t see a trace of him. He checked the picture info books and saw only children looking at a book on volcanoes.

When he did find Connor, he was sitting on the floor with a book on his lap. It was one of those illustrated encyclopedias, full of fish and whales. Connor was leaning over a page, reading about something. Hank waited a moment, watching Connor’s fingers run over the picture. He cleared his throat, watching Connor’s head snap up quickly.

“Is this alright?” Connor asked.

Hank nodded. “Yeah, you’re doing fine. What are you looking at?” He waited until Connor held the book out for him to see before walking closer to the kid.

“Balistoides Conspicillum. Also known as the Clown Triggerfish. Found in the tropic and sub-tropic areas of the Indian Ocean.” Connor said, reciting the words on the page. Hank nodded. It was an ugly thing, big white and yellow spot patterns on its black scales, huge yellow lips sticking out. Connor pulled the book closer to himself, his finger going back to trace the circular patterns.

“You can get the book. I got the card for you.” Hank said, holding the big library card out towards Hank.

Connor reached out for it, pulling it close and smiling at it. “We can come back again, right Hank?” Connor asked.

“As often as you want” Hank said.

Connor nodded, pushing up onto his feet and picking up his small pile of books. Hank offered to carry some but Connor shook his head, insisting on doing it himself. He had about five books, either on fish or genetics and DNA. The kid had some focused interests and Hank didn’t mind at all. There were worse things people could become obsessed with.

As Connor walked on ahead Hank pulled out his phone.  He wanted Connor to take initiative, go check out his own books.  He had to text Reed.  He had gotten a name after all.  Amanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor likes fish and DNA


	11. Chapter 11

Connor had settled into a routine of eating, sleeping, reading, and cleaning. Hank tried to intervene when he could, but the kid was easily stressed when he did. His sleep schedule was taking time to get on the right track, Connor was always falling asleep before Hank could get his bedtime pushed back to a somewhat reasonable time. The kid’s internal clock telling him he needed to sleep so he could have energy throughout the night, taking client after client. Hank didn’t let himself dwell on it for too long. At least Connor was usually awake in time to do what Hank’s unplugged alarm clock couldn’t.

He had to return to work. He was no longer on the case and so he had to report for duty. He had called North the day before, asking for her help on the matter. No one had come looking for Connor, but Hank knew better than to just assume they had gotten away with it. He knew better than to assume Connor would last eight hours here by himself without doing something. The kid wasn’t used to being out just yet. It had hardly even been a week.

“North is sending someone to keep you company. They should be here in a few hours. Don’t open the door for anyone other than Josh. Keep the chain on the lock and ask for names of anyone who comes over.” Hank said. It was already eleven. He was going to be late again and he wasn’t even hung over this time. “I wrote down the phone number for the station as well as my cell phone. Call me if you need anything at all. And I wrote down a number for pizza and left a twenty on the counter. Don’t go into the spare bedroom or the garage and stay out of the kitchen drawers.”

Simple rules. Connor needed simple rules to help with the overwhelming burden of freedom. These were fine. It was just to keep Connor out of Cole’s room and out of the drawer with the gun and photo. The drawer was locked now, but Hank still wanted to tell Connor no.

“I understand.” Connor said. He followed Hank around the house as the man got ready. He watched as he made sure he had his keys and his phone and constantly checked his watch. “When will you be back?”

“Eight hours. Maybe more.” Hank said. He stopped by the door, wondering what Connor was thinking. “I can tell Fowler to fuck off if you want me to stay.”

It wasn’t entirely true. His disciplinary file was already novel length and he was off Reed’s case. He was too involved. He kidnapped a hooker and had him living on his couch. Hank should consider himself lucky the case was off the books for now and he didn’t get suspended. Or maybe that was why Fowler called him in, to have him turn in his badge.

  
“I am more than capable of surviving in a house with a moderately stocked kitchen.” Connor said, tilting his nose up a bit. He had a small smile on his face, a bit awkward, as if he was testing out humor for the first time. Hank smiled and laughed softly, not having the heart to shoot down the attempt. Connor nodded.

“Alright. And remember to let Sumo out.” Hank said. He walked out the door and heard the clicking of the locks.

He stood by the door for a moment, waiting, breathing in the cold air until he felt like he was freezing from the inside out. He wondered if he should go back inside, tell Fowler he needed more time, make sure Connor was okay until Josh got here. Josh, someone North had said would be good company for the kid. Someone she trusted.

Hank took a few steps away from the door, hearing the crunch of snow under his feet. He needed to shovel the sidewalk, but what was the point if it was just going to get covered by fresh snow tomorrow. He waited at the end of the path, a few steps from the car, looking back at the house and seeing Connor peek at him from the edge of the curtains. Hank lifted up a hand to wave and Connor’s curious eyes disappeared from view.

Hank got into the car. This was good for Connor. He was never going to grow much if Hank was constantly standing over him. Connor was an adult, he could handle a few hours alone in the house. He was fine. Hank started the engine, waiting for some image of Connor to appear in the window again, peering through the curtains. Connor wanted to watch him leave, Hank decided, but he didn’t want Hank to see him watching.

Hank backed out of the driveway and started to drive down the street. On a spontaneous urge, he looped around the block to pass the house again, frowning at the sight of all the curtains closed tightly to block out all view.

  
Hank’s first official case was an easy one. The victim was dead. Skin and blood under his fingernails, signs of a struggle, fingerprints on the doorknob. DNA was sent off to the lab and Hank went back to the station to start paperwork. He grabbed lunch on the drive back to the station, sitting in his car and scarfing down a burger. He stopped by the liquor store.

He put he bottle in the glove compartment. He didn’t need it right now. He might not even need it later. He just needed to know it was there. He just had to have it close by just in case. It had been a few days since he had finished his last bottle. Beer was good, but sometimes it wasn’t enough.

Hank got back to the station, nodded at the people he was somewhat friendly with and completely ignored the people he wasn’t. Reed wasn’t at the station today, but Officer Chen was. She must have picked up from Reed that Hank had done something wrong, her look had a bit more annoyed curiosity than usual, but she still nodded his way.

Hank finished his paperwork in record time. The fingerprints came back with a match, the downstairs neighbor of the victim, history of violent assault and robbery. DNA from under the fingernails came back as a match. Hank went home before it was even dark out, which made him proud because it got dark early in the winter.

  
Hank hid the bottle in his coat as he walked into the house, frowning at the sight of it. All the curtains still shut tight. He wondered if Connor had opened them at all, or if he spent the whole day blocking out the world. Hank sighed, his shoulders slumping a bit, the bottle feeling a bit heavier. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, huffing in surprise as the chain jerked him to a stop.

“Who is it?” A voice called out softly. A voice Hank didn’t recognize.

“The owner of the god damn house now let me in.” Hank said. An eye peered through the crack in the door. “Fine, it’s Hank. I live here.”

The door closed and a moment later opened fully. The kid in front of him looked young, as wide eyed as Connor always looked. Of course, North would send another lonely kid to his place to keep Connor company.

“It’s nice to meet you Hank. My name is Josh.” The kid said. He was whispering. Hank stepped into his living room and felt warm, both from the central heating and from the sight of Connor burrowed into his blanket, fast asleep on the couch.

“How long has he been like that?” Hank asked.

Josh looked at the clock and then at Connor. “About two hours.”

“You’re not supposed to let him fall asleep before six. He’s going to be up all night.” Hank said. Not necessarily true, Connor was getting good at sleeping in until at least two in the morning. Still, Hank wanted the kid to sleep through the night.

“He was wandering around half asleep, I figured he deserved a rest.” Josh said. He shut the door, still standing in the living room. Hank hoped this kid didn’t move in as well.

Hank looked around his house. It was clean, cleaner than how he left it, but not scrubbed beyond recognition. He let his eyes wander to the chinese containers in the trash and the loose sheets of paper on the coffee table. The title screen of Finding Nemo on the tv, volume muted. A few books laid open, but they weren’t the usual books Connor read. Sumo was asleep on the floor, laying stretched out next to the couch.

“Did you kids have a good time?” Hank asked, trying to piece together the scene. The boys had ordered food and watched a movie.

Hank reached down for one of the papers on the coffee table, smiling at the doodle of a fish done with a ballpoint pen. Hank wondered which one of the two drew it. When Hank didn’t get an answer he looked up at Josh, the boy’s arms wrapped tightly in front of his chest.

Hank hummed, putting the paper back down. Josh was nervous. Of course he was. Hank had almost forgotten that he was with Jericho, and everyone at Jericho had a reason to be nervous around strangers.

“Am I supposed to sign a permission slip or something so you can leave?” Hank asked.

Josh crossed his arms, looking around the living room one last time, his gaze always lingering on Connor for a few seconds at a time. Hank was making him nervous for Connor. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and walked into the kitchen. He shielded himself so he could tuck the bottle into a cabinet without being seen. He didn’t give a shit about his drinking, but everyone at Jericho always seemed to judge his every action, especially when he was around Connor.

  
Hank hung up his coat and started picking up the living room. He made sure each page of the book was marked where the boys had left it and put them on the shelves where Sumo wouldn’t be able to eat them. He was about to ask which books were Josh’s when he heard the door shut and the crunch of shoes in the snow leaving his house. Hank rolled his eyes.

“You know, Sumo, I don’t think anyone at Jericho likes me much.” Hank said with a shrug. “I don’t see why, I haven’t done anything to ‘em.”

Hank leaned down and patted the dog’s head. Sumo lifted his head up to greet him, a happy rumble deep in his chest. Sumo was a dumb dog, but he was the smartest asshole ever. He didn’t care when he barked or how loud, unless it was one of those rare times Connor was sleeping. Hank had never seen Sumo do anything like it before, but he guessed if the mutt had to have one redeemable quality it was okay that it was this.

It was supposed to be cold that night and the old heater was rattling wildly at full exertion as it was. Connor only had the blanket from Jericho, always folded neatly when he was done with it. It wouldn’t be enough tonight. It wasn’t that late in the year but Detroit was already getting hit by snow and low temperatures. Hank needed to find Connor another blanket.

His first thought was to get the comforter off of his bed, but as soon as Hank say it he knew it wouldn’t work. He hated to admit it but he didn’t wash his blankets as often as he should. Hank went for the closet instead, wrinkling his nose at the suffocating stench of mothballs. Connor wouldn’t be able to sleep with any of these. He wouldn’t even be able to breathe.

He turned, standing still and letting the cold seep up through the wood floors into his feet. There were blankets in Cole’s room. Soft, warm, heavy blankets. Blankets with dinosaurs, pokemon, and sea turtles. Sea turtles counted as a type of fish in Hank’s opinion. Connor would like that.

He didn’t even reach for the doorknob. He turned on his heal and walked back towards the living room. The heater was still working fine. Still radiating a soft warm haze. At the very least, the blankets from Hank’s bed wouldn’t kill him.

Hank looked down at Connor, the boy’s face hidden in the cushions and his blanket, only a few light curls could be seen from the top of his head. He was fast asleep and the sun hadn’t even gone down yet. Hank started picking up the papers from the coffee table, smiling at the doodles and notes. Josh and Connor had been writing and sketching. Hank didn’t know if it was another therapy thing or if it was just an activity to pass the time.

Hank flipped one over, raising an eyebrow at a series of scribbles. Two columns of writing, one calm and flowing and the other somehow seeming manic and fractured and orderly all at once. Hank read the left one first.

 _‘My name is Josh._  
_I like macaroni and cheese._  
_I like gardening and the catnip flowers._  
_I used to be working in a university._  
_I want to be a history lecturer one day._ ’

Hank smiled. From what he knew about Josh is that he was suspicious and cautious and ran as soon as he knew Connor wasn’t in immediate danger. Which was brave, most people wouldn’t have waited to make sure. This seemed like a writing exercise, probably something for Jericho. Hank didn’t know what for, but it had a warm feeling in his chest.

The block of writing on the right was visually colder. The sentences were short and choppy looking, things were crossed out and some words were traced over again and again. But the handwriting was prefect, the letters aligning straight and even on the page. Hank had to read it a few times to understand.

‘ _My name is Connor._  
_I am ~~nineteen~~ ~~twenty~~ ~~twen~~ an adult._  
_I like fish. I like dogs._  
_**Balistoides Conspicillum**._  
_Sumo.’_

It felt confused. It felt like it was someone grabbing onto ideas of themselves. There was nothing there. His name, an idea about his age, that he likes fish and dogs, and then he names a fish and a dog. It looked liked Connor had tried, he just wasn’t quite ready yet.

Hank sighed and put the stack of papers on the shelf as well. He wandered into the kitchen, hand rubbing down his face tiredly. It was still too damn early. Hank’s hands lifted up and into the cabinet. He just needed a drink. Something to keep the cold away for the night. Hanks other hand lingered above the drawer. Inches above his gun and that photo. Separated from just a thin piece of plywood. Hank drank straight from the bottle, letting it burn in his stomach as he drank more. He pushed the cold away from himself and he was warm and numb and tired. He backed away from the counter.

Connor would be cold tonight. Hank walked to his room, looking down at his bed. The blankets were warm, but Hank eyed the tears and burn holes and questionable stains. He couldn’t do it. Not to Connor. The mothball blankets weren’t even considered. Hank was just drunk and numb enough to touch the doorknob to Cole’s room. He held his breath and walked in, eyes zeroing in on the blanket. He grabbed it and turned around to leave, not daring to look at anything else. He moved fast now, unfolding the blanket and shaking it out flat. He moved to the couch and carefully laid the sea turtles down onto Connor. The kid barely stirred. Hank huffed a relieved sigh and went back to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweet moment?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't update yesterday! I had to pull an all nighter at work and ended up having to stay awake for thirty two hours, I slept like the dead after and did no writing.

Hank gasped, flinching at the small burst of pain as his head jerked to the side. It faded as fast as it came but it had pulled him from sleep and the voice stopped him from slipping unconscious again.

“Hank, wake up. It’s me, Connor.” Connor said. He had pulled back a few steps now that Hank was awake, but he didn’t stop talking. “It is fifteen minutes to noon. You’re late for work.”

“Connor? Do I ever look like I give a shit if I’m late to work?” Hank said, rolling over onto his stomach and pressing his head to the cool surface. He felt sick, his head was pounding behind his eyes and he was not ready to get up yet

“Hank, Josh will be here soon and you spent the night on the kitchen floor.” Connor said.

“Who the fuck is Josh?” Hank groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut until it felt like the spinning was gone. He did not want to throw up right now.

“He’s my friend from Jericho.” Connor said. After a few moments of silence Hank felt Connor’s hand tap his shoulder. Hank groaned so Connor knew he was awake.

Josh, he wasn’t a babysitter. He was just company. He was to help with the lonely burden of not being controlled anymore. And he was going to be here soon while Hank was hungover and still half drunk on his kitchen floor. Hank pushed himself to sit up, going slow enough to not force his late dinner back up his throat.

He lifted his head and saw Connor sitting on the couch, watching him cautiously. Hank wondered if he was scary still, if being drunk or woken up made the kid nervous, or if he was just watching out of sheer curiosity. Hank pushed himself to stand, swaying for just moment. Hank saw the blankets neatly folded, his blanket on one side of him, the sea turtle blanket on the other, separated from one another.

Hank looked around, making sure there wasn’t an obvious mess left behind. No vomit, no spilled liquor, just a few dirty dishes and a knocked over ashtray. And the gun was out, sitting on top of the counter, drawer open, photograph facing upwards. Hank felt something dark and cold sink deeper into his chest and he walked over quickly, turning the picture face down and the gun on top of it, slamming the drawer shut with a thud. Hank didn’t look at Connor, he just went to his room to grab clothes and to the bathroom to shower, slamming the door shut behind him.

Hank tried to piece together the night. The last thing he remembered was forcing himself into Cole’s room for the sea turtle blanket. It wasn’t one of his son’s favorites, but the boy still loved it. Connor needed it though. Hank let his head fall down as the spray of water pounding against his head. He had obviously been up for longer than that. He had dirtied some dishes, made a mess of his ashtray, and gotten the gun out of the drawer.

Hank didn’t remember. He wondered if Connor had slept through the night. Or perhaps Connor had woken up, fully rested, in the middle of Hank’s drunken stupor. Hank groaned. What a mess he was, no way he could be doing anything to help getting drunk each night. He was most likely making it all worse. Hank felt something sick and raw in the pit of his stomach, rubbing ulcers into it, burning into him. Something painful that he couldn’t ignore anymore

He climbed out of the shower and pulled no some new clothes. He had noticed for the first time that since Connor had moved in he had never run out of clean clothes. Hank should bring that up, thank him for that. He stepped out of the bathroom and saw Connor still sitting on the couch. He looked like he hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Did you put on coffee?” Hank asked. He could smell it drifting in from the kitchen. He heard it dribbling into the pot.

“You always have coffee before you go to work.” Connor said.

Hank nodded slowly, trying to decide if this was good for Connor or not. It was innocent enough, wasn’t it. “Thanks.” Hank said. He walked into the kitchen and quickly poured himself a cup. It was strong, a lot of coffee in the filter. More than what Hank would usually get, but he needed the extra caffeine anyway. “Thank you for doing laundry too. You don’t have to, but I appreciate it.”

Connor shrugged. “What else am I going to do?”

It sounded soft and resigned. Cold words, just like the scribbled, crossed out ones on the paper from last night. Hank walked over to the book shelf, flipping through the papers of pen doodles and scribbles until he found the words.

“Can I ask you something? What are these?” Hank said, sipping his coffee and holding the paper out for Connor to see.

Connor leaned close, eyes scanning through the lines slowly. “Josh said I fidgeted my hands a lot, that I needed an activity to keep my fingers busy.” Connor said. He leaned away from the paper then, hands pulling away from it. “He said writing and drawing was supposed to clear the head. I don’t think I like it.”

“That’s okay. Writing is boring for me too, I hate filing reports more than anything.” Hank said.

Connor tilted his head and smiled. “I don’t think I would mind that. I like writing numbers and facts, I just don’t like writing made up stuff.”

Hank looked back down at the paper. The ‘made up stuff’ as Connor called it was basically a struggled attempt to define himself. It sat heavy on that painful part of his stomach, raw and bleeding.

“What about these?” Hank asked, showing the ink doodles of fish from Finding Nemo.

Connor smiled and nodded, leaning closer to this paper than he did to the other. He lifted his hand, reaching out to trace his finger over the fins. “This was fun. I didn’t mind this.”

Hank wanted to ask why he liked drawing more, why he preferred doodling to writing, why fish. Hank wanted to understand. He wanted inside this kid’s head, see what it is he had to do to make him better. But a soft and quick knock sounded on the door and Connor stood up to answer it. He paused, giving Hank a quick glance.

Hank nodded. Connor went to the door. He looked back, he hesitated, his eyes narrowed as he looked over his shoulder back at Hank. Connor didn’t want him here for this. It was obvious, Connor had woken him up so he would leave before Josh arrived. Hank felt that raw feeling inside spread, the ball of discomfort growing and sinking deeper. Connor was still nervous about him.

“I’ll leave you boys to it. Have a good day.” Hank said. He nodded a quick hello to Josh and then slipped out the door past the two of them.

It was cold today. A dry cold that stung his face. He heard the door close quickly behind him and he hid for safety in the car and immediately turned on the heat. He held his hands against the vent and watched as Connor went from window to window to close any blinds or curtains that had been left open. Once again blocking out the rest of the world.

  
“What do you want now?” Hank asked. He stood next to Chicken Feed and eating a burger when Reed walked up.

“I want to talk to Connor again.” He said, shrugging his shoulders as if to be making it obvious. “Without the lawyer.”

Hank shook his head, taking a large bite of his burger. “Not gonna happen. The kid has a lawyer for a reason.”

“Yeah, that reason is to keep me from solving my case.” Reed said. He reached out and swiped Hank’s fries. He popped one into his mouth and cut off Hank’s protests. “That’s all it is. I get it, you don’t want me taking advantage of how fucked up he is, but I need something more. The info you gave me was great but it’s not enough.”

“Well, is this case even going anywhere or not? I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know shit!” Hank said. He needed another drink.

“You want details?” Reed asked

Hank nodded. He didn’t. Not if anything he’s imagined is even close to being true, it would be better left unsaid. But Hank would not let Reed alone near Connor unless it was for a good reason.

“It’s classified.” Reed said.

“Connor doesn’t talk to you without his lawyer.”

Reed groaned, loud and angry and it came like a rumble from his chest. “They’re baby farming.” Reed said. His whole face twisted into a grimace. Hank shook his head, mouth full of food. He didn’t understand. Reed leaned in closer. “They got a shit ton of hookers all over the city, those hookers have babies, the babies are a new generation of hookers and servants and slaves. A whole slave trade. Connor told you someone named Amanda was overseeing them, I need to know more.”

“You think they’re selling a bunch of women so they can sell the kids?” Hank said. He put his burger down, only a few bites left but Hank had to wash down the scratchy feeling in his throat.  "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard.  Why would they go through all the trouble?"

"How much is a baby worth, lieutenant?"  Reed asked.  "  Anyway, I know of two leaders. One in charge of the merchandise. The kids, overseeing their birth and probably training and transporting them to different places. Then there is the actual owner, the kingpin I guess. Someone setting this all up. It’s more than sex clubs too, those are just the easiest to have slaves in.” Reed said. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and stuck one between his lips, causing it to dangle.

“Why are you telling me this if it’s so important?” Hank asked. He wasn’t on the case anymore. He was too involved.

“I am running out of options. It’s taking too long and causing the department too much and if it gets out that all of this is done off of police records then it’s going to be a mess.” Reed said.

Hank sighed. Reed was getting desperate. When a detective was pushed to desperation then it never meant anything good for the case. Hank looked down at his burger and tried to imagine what would have happened to Connor if the case fell apart. Connor, who said he was born there. He was take from his mother then, his mother who had no choice in the matter. He was sent to that place.

“I wanna be there at least.” Hank said slowly. He didn’t know when they should do it. He wasn’t even sure if it was completely a good idea. He just knew if it was going to happen then someone had to be there to be on Connor’s side.

“Fine, whatever.” Reed said, eyes lighting up.

“And I need to know how old Connor is and which of those clubs he was born at.” Hank said. He had a thought, something he didn’t want to put a plan or idea to, but Connor was born and raised like cattle in that place. “Tomorrow night. I’ll call you.”

Hank left, not even finishing his food but taking his drink back to the car. He didn’t have any big cases going on. He had nothing to really distract himself from what a mess this had all turned into. Connor was born in that place. Hank couldn’t help but pity the kid, he let that raw feeling move up his spine and send an ache into the back of his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor has a friend. Hank has a problem.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: Please read the warnings and tags for this fic. There is a rape and child abuse tag for a reason. There will be no actual physical rape in this fic but the characters will discuss it a lot. Particularly Connor and North. This is one of those chapters where people talk about this and a lot of their reations won't be pleasant.

“I’m not supposed to say anything to Detective Reed without Simon here.” Connor said. Hank sighed, wrinkling his nose and tried to let the painful ball of guilt that was beginning to grow unbearable deep in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t right.

“I know Connor, but Simon isn’t here right now. Don’t worry, I am. You’ll be safe.” Hank said. Connor didn’t see convinced. His eyes drifted from Reed to Hank, staring at the two men from across the table.

Hank didn’t want to be the one to break the silence. He didn’t want to start an interrogation. Reed needed to solve this case more than Connor needed to keep secrets. He waited, he watched as Connor’s eyes moved back and forth, down at all the hands on the table, and then back up again. Like an animal trying to find where the threat would come from.

“Who is Amanda?” Reed asked.

Connor didn’t say anything, his eyes staring at Reed’s shoulder. He didn’t say a word. It wasn’t a question they were likely going to get an answer to anytime soon. Hank knew where Connor’s loyalties were and it wasn’t with either of them. Hank looked at Reed, cleared his throat, and shook his head.

Reed sighed. “When did you first meet her?”

Connor’s eyes narrowed at the question, head tilted to the side a bit. “I’ve always known her.”

“So you were born with her?” Reed asked.

Connor looked to Hank. “Yes. She was there.” He said slowly.

“How many other children were there with you?” Reed said.

“With Amanda? Not many. Amanda only looked after a few of us.” Connor said. The more he spoke the more pinched his expression became. His eyes were darting faster, while his body staying perfectly still. “The others were sold.”

Reed leaned forward, catching hold of the small bit of information. “They were sold?”

Connor looked at him, eyes finally finding a place to focus, on the cuffs of Reed’s jacket. “Yes. I don’t know where. Did one of them do something wrong?”

Hank caught sight of Connor’s hands. Despite every other inch of his body sitting perfectly still, Connor’s hands were fidgeting. They were in his lap, hidden partially from the table, but Hank could see the movement of his wrist that gave away the movement of his fingers. He wondered if it was because of fear or nerves.

“No, they didn’t do anything wrong. Amanda did. Selling children is wrong.” Reed said. Hank grimaced at the forced slow tone.

“Oh.” Connor said. His eyes stayed on Reed’s hands. “I can’t tell you anything about Amanda.”

“Fine, whatever.” Reed said quickly. Hank glanced over, watching the man lean forward slightly, eyebrows drawn together in thought. “I want to know about you though. If all the others were sold, why weren’t you?”

Connor narrowed his eyes, his gaze shooting up to Reed’s eyes for only a moment. Hank had been in interviews or not. He had seen plenty of people try to decipher an officer, decide if they were being honest or not, decide if something was a trick.

“I wasn’t good enough. I am awkward with behavior issues. I was pretty so there was some value, but I’m a useless dancer and useless talker.” Connor said. Hank couldn’t see the lie. He had seen Connor dance in that club and yes, he was awkward, unfocused, and that took away some of the sexuality of what it was supposed to be. Hank just felt bad for the kid.

“Is that why Amanda looked after you? Because you weren’t good enough to sell to an outside buyer.” Reed said. Connor hesitated moment, then nodded. Reed pressed on. “So she kept you in the clubs.”

“Will I be punished for this?” Connor asked. He looked over to Hank.

“No, say whatever you can and no matter what you won’t be punished for it.” Hank said.

“But you’re a liar, Hank.” Connor said.

Hank desperately wanted to get the bottle, to tell Reed to get out and call someone from Jericho to come get Connor and Sumo. He wanted the gun. He wanted to test his luck today, see if it was finally his time. He looked at Connor, how completely calm he had seemed. The same blank resignation Connor had at the beginning. He didn’t deserve that.

“I know. I am a liar. I’m sorry. But I promise that right now I mean it when I say I will never let anyone hurt you again. I will protect you.” Hank said. He tried to meet Connor’s eyes but the kid would only glance up for a moment at a time.

“Based on past experiences, you’re lying. I can’t disobey them. They will get rid of me.” Connor said.

Hank sighed. It was like talking to a brick wall but Hank had to work with this kid. “Okay. You don’t have to believe me.” Hank said slowly. “But what if I promise to kill them instead? If they hurt you, or try to get rid of you, then I promise I will kill them. I’ll bring you home.”

Connor hummed, eyebrows drawing together. In Connor’s mind, Hank wasn’t someone safe. He couldn’t believe that Hank was someone who would protect him. Hank was dangerous, so it made more sense for Hank to promise to kill them. For some reason, Hank felt a wave of relief when Connor nodded. Some part of him wanted those people dead for what they did. Enough for Connor to believe the promise.

“That seems much more like you.” Connor said.

Reed was sitting perfectly still, not moving a muscle. Connor seemed entirely focused no Hank at this point, leaning towards him, eyes looking down at Hank’s hands. Hank felt a small thread of trust being thrown his way and he held onto it gently.

“Why didn’t they sell you?” Hank asked softly.

“I think…” Connor hesitated. The kid was never at a loss for words, he always had a response. Hank had learned that. But sometimes Connor took a moment to think and consider and Hank didn’t mind it. He hated the tension, that edge of the seat feeling of waiting for whatever horror had to be described next. Hank would wait an eternity for Connor to find the right words for what had happened to him. “I used to be valuable.”

Reed shifted in his seat slightly, hands moving to the pocket of his jacket but Hank didn’t dare take his eyes off of Connor. He tried to understand what it meant. Connor had picked that word. Connor had likely thought of it as it’s literal sense.

“You used to have a lot of monetary value?” Hank asked, trying to get as clear a definition as Connor would agree to.

He nodded. “Yes.” Connor said. He reached up and put his hands on the edge of the table, tapping a pattern like piano keys. “I was born very sick. Usually they would just leave a sick baby somewhere, but Amanda saved me. She said the moment I was born I had potential.”

Connor’s fingers tapped faster, back and forth, its rhythm picking up. Connor was looking up now, eyes looking over the cobwebs in the corners of the room. Hank knew a nervous tick when he saw one. It was fine most of the time but it was making the room tense. Hank tapped the table softly and gave a quick look to Reed.

“Here kid, I can’t stand the spirit fingers anymore.” Reed said as a quarter rolled across the table.

Connor stared at it as it fell over by his fingers. He slid it off the side of the table and into his waiting palm. Connor considered it for a moment, flipping it over in his palm and rubbing his fingers over the surfaces, against the ridges on the side. Connor kept turning it over in his hands as he looked back up at the two of them.

“Thank you, Reed.” Connor said.

Hank took a deep breath, letting the moment settle before pressing on. “What made you valuable, Connor?” He asked.

Connor shook his head. “Will I be punished for refusing to answer?”

“No.” Hank said, cutting in before Reed could threaten the kid. “I promised you, no punishments. I won’t ask about that again.”

“Okay. I’m not valuable anymore. It wasn’t my decision. But afterwards I wasn’t worth as much.” Connor said. The nail of his thumb running over the ridges of the coin. Connor started rolling it over his fingers. “When I was young, people thought I was endearing, how I couldn’t dance and didn’t sweet talk like they wanted. When I got older it just made me seem wrong. My value went down more. I was once too valuable to sell, then I was too worthless to sell. They were going to get what they could from me before they had to get rid of me.”

There had always been the threat of an unseen time limit. Connor would have died there, sooner rather than later. Hank looked over to Reed, wondering if he knew how little time Connor had left when his anonymous source pointed the kid out.

“Amanda was going to allow that?” Hank asked.

“She said if I could be useful she would save me again.” Connor said. He flicked the coin in the air and caught it as it came back down. He opened his palm and looked at the coin, a soft smile appearing on his face.

“Save you?” Hank felt sick as he said the words. “That’s a fucked up thing to call it.”

Connor looked up, catching Hank’s eye. “I was going to do it. I can be useful again.”

“No, Connor. That’s not the fucking point. You don’t have to be useful to be alive!” Hank shouted, barely restraining himself from slamming his fist onto the table. He pushed himself away from the table, slamming the chair into the table so hard it crashed to the ground. Connor was completely sill, hands curled into fists on his lap as the table jerked. Hank regretted it. Every damn day he regretted something.

“Connor, listen. I need you to tell me about Amanda. Where is she? What does she look like? What does she do? Fucking tell me.” Reed said, grabbing Connor by the front of his sweater. Connor stared at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He didn’t say anything, his jaw clenched tight. “Who is Amanda, Connor? Don’t protect her. You know what she did to you? She let some woman or girl or someone get raped and attacked. Got pregnant and had you. She had you snatched from her arms and you were raped and it happened to someone else and someone else again and again. Tell me where she is and I can stop that?”

Connor didn’t move. He looked so calm and so confused. Hank didn’t know how anyone could be so blank about shit like this. Sometimes it was like he didn’t understand at all, as if they were speaking a different language. Connor looked over to Hank, waiting for him to intervene, waiting to be saved. Hank had promised no punishment.

“Get off of him Reed.” Hank said. He needed a drink.

“Anderson…” Reed said slowly. He sounded tired. Maybe they could all use a drink. Reed sighed, hands releasing Connor’s sweater and patting the kid’s shoulders to get out the wrinkles. “I got enough for now. I’ll figure it out. Thank you, Connor.”

Reed stood up, wiping his face with the back of his hand and giving Hank a pointed look. Hank knew the look. It was when the case made you tired and you just needed to drink for a bit. Hank had felt like that almost every day. Reed walked out the front door and Hank picked his chair up off of the floor just to sink back into it.

“Hank, I have a question on something I didn’t understand.” Connor said. His voice was steady. He had such near perfect control and Hank hated it. He hated it more than anything. “Detective Reed said that my mother was raped and had me and then I was raped. I’m not familiar with that term, but it seems important to his case. What is it?”

Hank’s shoulders drooped and bent forward. “Oh my god, Connor… I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.” Hank whispered. He got up and stepped forward. He regretted saying that, but it was the truth. He couldn’t handle anymore talking for the night. He reached out and cupped the back of Connor’s head, brushing his hair back with his fingers, and pulled the kid forward. He held Connor close, as gentle as he could, like when he had held Cole to his chest for the very first time.

“Hank, I don’t know what to do now.” Connor said softly, his head nestled against him. “What can I say to make you happy?””

“I would be really happy if you would just please…” Hank whispered.

“What, Hank? What do I need to do?” Connor said. He didn’t move a muscle, his head staying where it was without a struggle.

“It’s going to be okay, son. It’s all going to be just fine. I promise.” Hank said. He didn’t have any of the answers Connor was looking for. Hank hadn’t had any answers for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No hate please. No one is irredeamable in this fic (except Amanda and one other I won't name yet). Hank and Reed aren't as perfect as we could hope they would be, but they mean their best
> 
> Did I ever tell you guys I only write angst?


	14. Chapter 14

By the time the weekend came and it was time for Connor to start his group sessions with North and the others, the weather had changed. It was raining again, coming down hard and turning the snow into dark slush. It would freeze again in a few days and turn it into dark ice too difficult to see on the roads.

“Ask North all those questions you’ve been asking about. She will have better answers than me.” Hank said. He was tired. Connor was draining any energy he might have had left. He didn’t have the answers to the questions Connor needed answers. How was he supposed to explain to someone that something that had been happening to them often for as long as they can remember was illegal and wrong. He knew being assaulted was a bad thing, Connor thought it was normal. Hank was tired.

“All of them.” Connor repeated softly, eyes staring out the window as he rolled the quarter over his finger. The kid hadn’t let go of it since Reed had slid it across the table. He had latched onto it and Hank didn’t know why. He assumed it did something to help.

“Yes, all of them” Hank said. He had shown up an hour before the group therapy was supposed to start, calling ahead to make sure North was free to have a meeting with Connor beforehand. He almost felt bad for her, no warning her that Connor was going to walk in there and ask what rape was and what it had to do with him.

North knew. She had the answers. She had an understanding, she had experience. She knew how to survive this an she knew how to help others survive. Hank didn’t know a damn thing. At some point he had learned a long time ago that kids sometimes needed help that he just couldn’t give to them. Connor needed someone other than Hank for this.

He told Connor to have someone call him when they were done and he would come pick him up. Hank knew that if Jericho had any sense at all they wouldn’t let Connor come home with him. Everything he did was a mistake with this kid. Connor turned around at the front door and saw him still waiting in the car. He lifted his hand to wave and Hank waved back, smiling softly as he disappeared inside.

Hank sat in the car for a moment. Connor could be up there telling North anything. He could tell her he knew where Hank kept his gun, the drawer was always locked now, Hank had let Sumo run off with the keys. Sometimes it was too much of a temptation, especially wen he was drinking.

The house was quiet without Connor in it. Even though Connor never initiated conversation, he sometimes did seek Hank out to tell him about a new fact he had read in one of the books Hank never touched. Connor’s blankets were folded neatly on the end of the couch, a stack of new library books sat on the coffee table, and the place didn’t look like a trash dump. Other than that there was no sign of Connor anywhere.

Hank grabbed the bottle off of the top of the fridge and turned on the tv. It was on the Discovery Channel, Hank wrinkled his nose and sighed. He had to scroll through the channels, looking for sports, because he never bothered to learn what that channel were. He settled on hockey, watching the Red Wings in their away game gear.

Hank had even gotten himself a glass in a desperate attempt to not feel so hopelessly pathetic. He poured a tall drink into that glass and chugged it. At least this way he could pretend he’s pacing himself.

The sea turtle blanket laid on top of Connor’s blanket. It was so neatly folded, crease free, and available where Hank could just take it and put it back in Cole’s room. He wouldn’t, but it was there if he wanted to. Connor would come home, see that it was gone, and not say a word about it. Hank could wash the blankets in the closet before it got cold again.

Hank downed another glass and went to the closet. He pulled the blankets out from the top shelf and frowned. They smelled fine. Clean in fact, like fresh scented detergent. Hank put them back on the shelf, walking towards the kitchen towards the back room where the washer and dryer sat near the back door. Sure enough, they were almost out of laundry soap and there were clean clothes in the washer. Hank had known Connor was doing the laundry, Hank didn’t know he was washing everything.

The sea turtles stared up at him on their flat blue background. They weren’t cartoon turtles, but they didn’t look quite real either. They seemed to be questioning him, asking him what he was going to do. He picked it up and held it to his nose. Cole had always smelled faintly of black licorice. The kid didn’t even like that candy very much, but his grubby hands always smelled like it. Almost everything the kid touched had the lingering smell. Even after the past few years, Hank could still smell it on his son’s clothes and on his toys and his blankets.

Hank held the sea turtles to his nose. He didn’t smell anything, just laundry detergent. Hank gripped the blanket so tight it wrinkled under his hands. It distorted the turtle’s face and it’s eye stared up at him, a burning and unblinking stare.

He needed a drink. He tossed the blanket back onto the couch and grabbed the bottle. It was gone. He couldn’t get the smell back. It was probably still infested in that room, lingering and ready to suffocate him as soon as he walked through the door. He couldn’t go in there. The blanket was bad enough. Hank couldn’t go back in there.

He needed to just drink. He still used the glass, trying to pace himself but the longer it took to fill it up each time the more that pit of guilt started to feel like it had cut him open and he was bleeding from the inside out. He didn’t want to feel it anymore. He didn’t want to feel anything anymore.

The gun was just always so tempting when he drank.

His phone buzzed. The meeting had ended and North was telling him Connor was ready to be picked up. Hank sighed, running a hand over his face and pushing himself up. Sumo whined, lifting his head up as Hank went to the sink and splashed his face with cold water again and again until he was sure he was fine to drive.

He sat in the car for a moment before pulling out into the road. He tried not to let his mind focus too heavily on the poor road conditions or the fact that he was stupid for driving out into this. He tried not to feel the guilt anymore. He should tell North he couldn’t take care of Connor anymore. He couldn’t even stay sober long enough to pick the kid up from therapy.

The roads were slick with slush, but Hank drove slow. He stopped for a bit longer than necessary to make sure no one would rush through the intersection. He made it to Jericho in one piece, if later than he expected. As soon as he pulled into a parking spot, Connor came scurrying out of the building.

Once Connor was buckled in the passenger seat and they were pulling away from the building, Hank let out a sigh. “How was it?” He asked.

“There were people like me there.” Connor said.

“Like you?”

“Yes. And we all went in a circle. I’m not supposed to tell you what we talked about.” Connor said. He pulled the quarter out of his pocket and flicked it over his knuckles.

“Okay. What can you tell me?” Hank said.

Connor shifted in his seat, turning away from the window towards him. “I got to talk. I didn’t talk as much as the others, but North said I didn’t have to. I stood up when it was my turn and introduced myself. My name is Connor.” He said, tilting his head as he talked. “And they all said hello back to me.”

Hank found himself smiling as well. It was such a simple thing, but the kid seemed so pleased with himself that Hank had to share in the easy happiness. “I’m glad you had a good first day, son.” He said.

Connor nodded. Hank kept his eyes on the road but he knew the kid was looking at him. There was so much curiosity in Connor and Hank didn’t want to look over and break the kid’s line of thought. He wanted to give him space to think about his day without his influence.

“Everyone was very kind to me. A lot of people were very sad though. I don’t think I belong there.” Connor said. Hank could still feel his eyes on him, waiting to gauge his reaction.

“Why?” Hank asked calmly.

“I’m not sad.” Connor said. “This is to help them, isn’t it?”

Hank almost laughed. He almost wanted to tell Connor that he was one of the saddest people he had ever seen, but that just might confuse him further. He watched the road, wondering if he was going too fast or too slow for the current weather. Too slow? He wanted to be home by now.

“How do you know they were sad?” Hank said.

Connor hummed and shrugged his shoulders. “Their voices trembled when they spoke. They said words like ‘awful’, ‘torturous’, and ‘devastating’. People wouldn’t use those words if they weren’t sad. I wouldn’t use those words.”

“It’s not a meeting for sad people, Connor. It’s a meeting for people who had something happen to them, so they can all share it and understand it better.” Hank said. One day he wouldn’t have to explain the basics of humanity to the kid, one day Connor wouldn’t be so confused about what he was feeling and what being free meant.

Connor was still watching him as they pulled up to the house. Hank saw the sludgy, muddy path of footprints leading up to the frond door and wished he could go back in time and shovel the snow off of the path. He shut the car off and the little bit of heat from the engine died out.

“I asked North about everything. She explained a few things, but she was mad. Not at me, she promised she wasn’t mad at me.” Connor said quickly, eyes wide and once Hank made eye contact he couldn’t look away again. He couldn’t go back to ignoring him. “She said she was mad at Amanda, but I told her not to be.”

Hank nodded. He waited for Connor to elaborate or explain, to say anything at all, but Connor just sat there and waited. He wanted Hank to give him a cue on what to say or how to feel. Hank just shrugged and climbed out of the car.

“Hank, are you mad at Amanda as well?” Connor asked.

They closed the door behind them and started to kick the snow off of his shoes. Hank was not in the mood today. He was not in any condition to deal with anymore trauma today. He wanted to drink and sleep and try it all again tomorrow. Today was a failure.

“Hank.” Connor said again. Hank dropped his jacket by the door and picked his bottle off of the coffee table.

Connor didn’t say anything after that. He just stood in the living room, watching silently as Hank carried his bottle to the bedroom. He slammed the door once he was inside, kicking it closed and drinking straight from the bottle. Yes, He was mad at Amanda. God, he had never met the woman and only had a small idea of her, but he hated her more than he ever hated anyone in his life.

Hank looked down at the bottle in his hand, at how much of it was already gone. It sloshed around, splashing as Hank moved, walked, and sat on the edge of his bed. The bed was a mess. Connor hadn’t come in here for his cleaning as much as he had the rest of the house. Hank held the bottle close to his chest and let out a shaky breath.

He had driven to get Connor after drinking so much. He had put the kid at risk. How easy it would have been to just hit a rough patch of road and slide into another lane. It had happened before. He had been stone sober when that truck shifted on the ice and over the lines. He had sat in the hospital waiting, praying to every God he could think of to not take his boy away. He could have done that to someone else He could have done that to Connor.

What was wrong with him? He had to stop. He was hurting people. He was in control, wasn’t he? He could tell himself to stop doing this to himself. There weren’t any answers for him, there was no reason. He looked at the dark liquid swirling the bottle and it promised to numb the pain and the guilt. It would make everything hurt less.

His son was dead. The pain was too much and Hank woke up every morning wishing the truck had claimed him as well. He closed his eyes and he could still see it, the broken metal and shattered glass, the air bag pressed against his chest. He remembered how his head had throbbed, how his lungs burned as he gasped for air. Hank had turned around to look into the backseat.

Cole had been so small. He was a kid, average for his age, still in a booster seat so he could be buckled in comfortably. Looking back, Hank couldn’t remember where they were going, but he did remember how much Cole had smiled and waved at the house when they left that day. He remembered looking back and seeing his boy curled to the side, head pressed against the side of the crushed passenger door.

Hank stood up and walked back to the door. Connor didn’t want him to drink, that much was obvious. Connor had seen him do almost nothing but drink. Hank took only a moment to compose himself. He hadn’t cried in years so his eyes were dry, but his hands shook and his heart pounded in his chest.

The moment Hank stepped out the door he saw Connor jump to his feet and walk quickly to the kitchen. Hank frowned, letting the bottle slide to the end of his fingers and carried it limply. The sea turtle blanket had been refolded, once again free of creases.

“Connor?” Hank said, turning now towards the kitchen.

Connor’s back was to him, hunched over the sink as he ran hot water and stacked the dirty plates and cups into neat piles to be washed. “We need more dish soap.” He whispered.

“Connor, are you alright?” Hank reached out and put his hand on Connor’s shoulder. The boy didn’t flinch, but Hank could feel his whole body tense up.

Hank stepped closer, moving to Connor’s side and looking at his face. Connor was crying. His eyes were red and puffy, tears clumping together his eyelashes and the trail drying on his face. Connor reached up and wiped his hand vigorously at the skin of his cheek, smearing away the moisture.

“I’m sorry. It just started happening, I don’t know how to stop.” Connor said, his words coming out more jumbled and shaky as he spoke, not the usual calm and relaxed tone he usually used. “If you would allow me a moment to collect myself then I can finish.”

“No, you don’t need to apologize and you don’t need to finish anything.” Hank said. He tried to rub circles into Connor’s back, trying to help soothe him but the tension in his muscles only grew tighter.

"There aren't that many.  It would only be a moment." Connor said.

"It's not important."

Connor shook his head. “I can be good. For you, I am good. I promise. And then you’ll be happy with me, right? Let me finish please”

“I don’t care about the fucking dishes!” Hank snapped. He saw Connor’s eyes linger on the bottle. “Is this what you’re scared of? Of course you are. You grew up in the basement of a bar after all.”

Hank took his hand off of Connor and twisted off the cap of the bottle. It was a burst of stubborn courage he clung to that allowed him to pour the rest of the whiskey into the sink, ruining Connor’s clean dish water. Hank’s mind was already pulling up the cost of another.

“You don’t have to do that.” Connor said.

“No, but I will. I need to cut back anyway.” Hank said. Connor did seem a bit calmer then, the tears didn’t stop dripping down his face but he had stopped trembling so much. He had stopped shaking. He stared down at the sink as if expecting the liquor to come back up and flow back into the bottle.

“I can get back to work now. I’m sorry for the interruption.” Connor said. His voice didn’t sound relaxed. It sounded flat and empty. Tears kept flowing but Connor’s expression looked pained, pinched and squinted until he had pulled his features to look blank.

“Sorry for the interruption? Your feelings aren’t an inconvenience, son.” Hank said.

Connor started to make new dish water, eyes staying down. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. I don’t have a definition for it yet. I apologize.” The tone of his voice was dead.

“Stop apologizing to me. This is my fault. I should be on my knees saying sorry. I’m not going to, but I should.” Hank said. Connor made no sound or twitch to acknowledge that he understood. Connor probably didn’t. “Your feelings are a priority, son. Fuck if I know what I’m doing, but it’s not what I should be doing. I know you don’t believe me, but I promise from now on things will be better.”

Hank felt like a piece of shit. Connor hadn’t asked for any of this. Hank had stolen him, Hank had scared him, lied to him, and confused him. Hank had shoved Connor into a completely new lifestyle and then left him to figure it out on his own while he escaped into a bottle.

Hank grabbed Connor’s shoulder and pulled him close, holding the kid against his chest. Connor stood against him, head tucked under Hank’s chin, arms dangling limply. He was warm, he was breathing, and he was alive. Connor had survived everything up to this point, he was even surviving Hank.

“I’ll do better.  I'll stop drinking if it makes you happy.  Go to some meeting.” Hank said softly. “Just tell me what you need, son.”

He didn’t expect an answer. Connor didn’t understand what had happened to him, he didn’t understand what he was feeling, and it made sense he wouldn’t understand what he needed.

“Is it alright if you stop touching me?” Connor said softly.

Hank’s arms dropped to his side as the words hit him. He stepped back, putting a few feet of distance between them. Connor looked up at him, eyebrows drawn together, nose wrinkled. His eyes were still red and watery. Occasionally it spilled over and dripped down his cheeks again, only to be quickly wiped away. Hank hated that Connor was confused on why Hank had followed his request.

“I’ll do the dishes today. You can tell me about your books while I do. If you want. Or, you can go do whatever you want.” Hank said. Connor nodded slowly, turning and walking quickly towards the living room. Hank watched as Connor sat down on the couch and pulled his coin out of his pocket. He didn’t seem okay, not yet at least, still wiping tears from his face and curling forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys arent doing good but they sure are trying.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short but sweet.
> 
> also, this is not a real community center

The community center was closed on Sunday, so they went on Monday. Hank brought Connor with him, intent to make amends and get the kid out of the house more. He said he didn’t want him hovering around the house like a lost ghost. Connor didn’t question it.

The drive was quiet, heavy metal turned down low, only high enough to mask the sound of Connor flicking the coin into the air again and again. Hank kept glancing out of the corner of his eye, only briefly, but Connor only stared out the window. They never said a word to one another.

The closest community center was a sturdy place, surrounded by a ghost town. Half the houses were up for auction for a thousand dollars or less, needing extensive repairs. The other half of the homes were full of families, people who couldn’t afford to leave during the hard times. It was a well taken care of building, Hank knew the facility well. He was a police officer, he had to know it.

“You coming in or do you want to wait in the car?” Hank asked. He wanted Connor to come inside.

Connor didn’t give him a verbal answer, but he did climb out of the car and walk with him towards the front steps. Hank smiled as they walked through the door and smiled at the receptionist, an old woman with plump arms and half moon glasses who had been working for the center since before Detroit fell apart. Hank was usually here on police business, not to get info on the AA meetings.

There were many other activities the center hosted, community outreach, volunteer work, classes, and events. Hank steered Connor towards the bulletin boards while he went to go talk to the woman at the desk, her name tag read ‘Trudy’. There wasn’t anything he really had to do, just get a schedule for times and info pamphlets, but he wanted to give Connor time to take it all in.

“Got anything with fish?” Hank asked after shoving the flyers in his back pocket.

“Fish?” Trudy said, wrinkling her nose at the question. “There are cooking classes on Wednesdays.”

“No, no cooking classes. No housework please. I mean like aquarium fish. Or anything for people interested in fish.” Hank said. He looked over his shoulder. Connor was still sitting in one of the chairs waiting, but he was scanning the bulletin board next to him. Hank hoped he saw something for him.

“Well honey, there’s the little sea explorers club but that’s for kids.” Trudy said. She reached under her desk slid him another flyer. Sure enough, ages six to twelve. “The deep sea explorers club is in the summer, it’s for teenagers.”

“Nevermind. He’s in his twenties, probably.” Hank said.

“Well, if he can pass a background check and drug screen then he could volunteer.”

“Maybe for the summer class.” Hank said. Connor would pass a background check in the sense that nothing would come up, not even a birth record.

“Well, we have a college prep class on Marine Biology, but he either has to have a GED or high school diploma. The college prep class does have a fee and you can earn college credits, but we have free GED classes.” Trudy said. Like an angel she had produced a small booklet from behind the desk.

Apparently this miracle of a community center had gotten a city grant to promote education. It was working, they got an award for it. There was a list of classes at almost every level. Some minor classes were taught there at the center and the more advanced classes at the college.

“So what class should someone who had never been to school before take first?” Hank asked.

Trudy blinked. “And he’s twenty?” She asked. Hank nodded, trying to keep himself from laughing at how ridiculous his life had become. Trudy would think this was a joke, but Hank needed her to believe he was serious. “Aright. I would start was just a basic placement test so we can gauge his math and language arts skills. Then you can find out if he can start with the basics or just go ahead and take the GED test.”

Hank nodded and smiled. That was a good plan. A really good plan. Connor would get out of the house and into a safe place where he can have comfortable rules and social interaction. Hank would have a moment to breathe. A moment away from the constant reminder of Cole haunting his home.

He thanked Trudy, tried to tip her a twenty that she took without a single argument. Hank felt like he might just fall in love with her one day. There was no doubt in his mind that Connor was intelligent, but he needed to be in a classroom. Not really to learn, Connor would absorb information like a dried up sponge feeling water for the first time in a long time. He needed to be there just to be there.

He walked back to Connor, feeling a bit of relief to actually see him standing in front of the bulletin board, looking intently at something. Hank looked over the kid’s shoulder.

“A painting class?” Hank asked.

Connor nodded. “Markus mentioned something. I think I would be interesting.”

“Okay, sure. Not what I expected, but I’ll get you signed up.” Hank said. A socially awkward genius artist, a modern Leonard da Vinci. Hank approved.

“No, I don’t think I would be good at it. It has a fee.” Connor said, his hand reaching up to tap his finger on the flyer.

“Don’t worry about it. If you want it then you deserve it.” Hank said. “Besides, you’ll already be here because I want to sign you up for classes.”

“You want to send me to school?” Connor, turning around to look at him.

“Yeah, I guess. If you want.” Hank said with a shrug.

“Josh goes to school.” Connor said.

“I think he will go to a different school, but you’ll make new friends here.” Hank held the class list out to him.

He opened it, holding up in front of his face. “I understand, Hank. Josh wants to be a history professor, I do not. It makes sense that we would need different schooling. Can I take this class?” Connor said, pointing to a college prep criminal justice class.

Hank closed his eyes and huffed out a laugh. “You have to take the GED test first and so in the interest of not wasting time and money, let’s get you a placement test first.”

Connor’s mood had immediately lifted and Hank felt all the tension and nerves drain from him. For now, he thought maybe he could do it. Maybe he didn’t need whiskey as much as he thought he did. When they got back to the car he gave Connor a pen, told the kid to take all the classes he wanted to take. Regardless of how Connor did on the placement test, he wanted to still sign him up for a few.

Sumo met them at the door, but wiggling with how hard his tail wagged back and forth. Droop dripped down from the dog’s mouth and Connor dropped to his knees to happily let slobber on his face. Hank smiled, dropping his keys on the nearest flat object. There was a rising crust frozen pizza waiting for them and Hank was in the mood to start dinner early.

“Thank you, Hank.” Connor said when he came into the kitchen to wash up.

“No problem, son.” Hank said. There wasn’t really anything else to say.

They returned to the silence. It wasn’t as bad as before. Connor was happy, he ate the pizza that Hank put on his plate and watched tv with interest. An episode of Forensic Files where the police didn’t start looking for a woman until a week after she went missing. Hank’s eyes drifted to the kitchen, eyes lingering on the empty space on top of his fridge. This was the first time in months that spot had been blank.

Hank hated this show. He didn’t like taking work home with him. He couldn’t focus on the show and so he spent too much time thinking. He always ended up thinking about drinking. Then if he wasn’t drinking he had to think about why he drank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, they're fine  
> :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank is trying.

Hank was searching for distractions and he decided the best distraction from drinking might as well be Connor instead of murder cases. He wanted to make the kid happy, show him that the world wasn’t as bad and scary as it always seemed. He took the kid to Target to pick out a cheap phone with an even cheaper data plan. He let Connor browse the clearance sections and when Hank told him to pick whatever he wanted he raised an eyebrow.

It was a challenge apparently. Connor picked up something at random and gave Hank a sideways glare.

“If you like it then put it in the cart.” Hank said, leaning against the hand railing.

Connor put it in the cart. It was a sweater with a photorealistic close up of an orange cat’s face on it. Hank hated it. A black coat with white fleece inside. Connor looked at Hank and raised an eyebrow. Hank nodded, even though it was an extra large woman’s coat. It wouldn’t look bad. Connor pulled out a pink tshirt with a large graphic of an ice cream cone. Connor hardly gave it a glance before he looked at Hank.

“I don’t fucking understand but if you want to wear it then sure.” Hank said. Connor put it in the cart.

Hank’s one rule as they stick to the clearance aisle. He wanted Connor to have things, but he was still on a budget. Connor picked anything his hands touched. Anything that felt nice under his trailing fingers. Hank noticed it after a few more shirts fell into the cart. Only things soft fabrics were chosen, Connor’s fingers almost flinched away from anything slightly rough. Hank had to step in after a while. He had to think of his wallet at least a little bit.

“Of course, Hank. Thank you.” Connor said. He smiled down at his small selection proudly as they walked through the racks. It was funny, the kid was more excited about soft new clothes than he was about a new cell phone. Connor probably didn’t know about the internet, but he did know about clothes.

Connor was distracted by his coin, flicking it high and catching it in fluid motions. Hank winced at what it all added up to, but it wasn’t anything that would take food off the table or cut into his savings. It was fine. Connor needed more things. He was going to love the internet. He was going to love the world once he finally understood it. At least Hank hoped so. Connor didn’t deserve to turn into a bitter old man.

If there was something that was the opposite of regret it was what Hank was feeling right now. He didn’t know what it was called, he didn’t feel it often. Connor was smiling. It looked like a real smile. An honest to God happy smile, like Christmas had come a few months early.

Perhaps he could do this. Sobriety was unbearable alone and drinking was too reckless with Connor so maybe Hank would allow himself to believe he could do this, especially if he had more good days like this. Connor turned and faced Hank with that smile still cemented on his face.

“Thank you. No one has ever gotten me such kind and practical gifts.” Connor said.

“Practical? You have no clothes, you wash and wear the same few things. This is so I can stop feeling awkward.” Hank said, turning his attention back to the road.

“Of course. A practical explanation. How vain of me to think you were doing this for my benefit.” Connor said and Hank could hear the smile in his voice. When he glanced over he still saw the grin and knew it was going to be a good day for the rest of the day.

Sumo was barking wildly when they carried the bags in. He was waiting for a surprise for him in one of those bags. He expected a treat or a toy and demanded it as soon as possible. “Sumo you damn mutt. Back up!” Hank said.

He had gotten Suma a large green duck with a squeaker inside. When the dog got it he shook his head fast and growled. Sumo loved stuffed animals. He loved to rip them to shreds. Sumo trotted off to the corner with his toy and Connor immediately started to dig through the bags of clothes Hank didn’t see what he grabbed, but it seemed he wanted to waste no time trying on his new clothes.

Hank sat down on the couch. It was more than he was used to doing in a day, he was exhausted and his hands twitched for a glass and his mouth was dry in need of a drink. He opened Connor’s phone instead. It was light and clunky but it did what it was designed to do. He added his number into the phone. He added North’s number, Josh’s, and Simon’s. He wanted to make sure Connor was cable of contacting anyone he needed at any time.

Connor came out of the bathroom in the cat sweater, a pair of sweatpants, and bright yellow socks. He looked comfortable for the very first time since Hank had known Connor. He looked like a human being.

“I like cats.” Connor said.

Hank laughed. It made his chest feel lighter to just laugh at this dumb kid who loved every animal whose photograph he laid eyes on. For the first time he allowed himself the brief hope that one day Connor would be okay. Hank waved Connor over, ready to show Connor the wonders of mobile phones.

He showed Connor how to call and text people in his contacts list and how to add new ones.

“For when you make friends at school.” Hank said.

He showed Connor the internet. Hank would save a lot of money on books if he gave Connor the ability to google something. Connor’s hand kept running over the fabric of the sweater. He leaned in close and plucked the phone from Hank’s hands and exploring the features. Connor’s brain adapted, it absorbed the information and in no time he was figuring the device out on his own.

Connor was completely distracted now. He leaned against the arm of the couch and scrolling through everything curiously. After a few minutes Hank felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out and smiled at the text notification.

‘Hello, Hank. It’s me, Connor.’ The message read.

Hank laughed and shook his head. It helped with peace of mind. He wanted to know Connor was okay as he tries to meet he world and be independent. He didn’t want to smother the kid, but he needed a way to reach out for help at all times.

“Don’t talk to strangers on there. That’s a very important rule that you can’t break.” Hank said. He didn’t want to control the kid, but his main concern was to ensure Connor’s safety. “And if you ever see anything you don’t understand or maybe makes you upset, then I want you to tell me.”

Connor nodded along. “Of course Hank. I don’t want to be needlessly put in danger.”

Hank leaned back, letting Connor tug at the long sleeves of the sweater and run his fingers over the screen. It lit the kid’s face up blue and Hank could only imagine whatever fish he was looking at. Or crime scene photos.

Connor’s attention was gone and I would be too much work to get it back again. That was alright, Connor was allowed to explore without Hank hanging over his shoulder. But that meant Hank had to sit in silence. Nothing good was on tv, it was Tuesday and nothing good ever came on tv on Tuesdays. Hank wanted a drink. He had a bottle stashed away in the bottom drawer of Cole’s dresser. It had been unopened and untouched for years. Left when he had barely pulled himself away from the edge and it would be there for when he was ready to give up.

That wasn’t today.

Today Hank would only think about it longingly. His head tilting back and he closed his eyes and just breathed. Now that he had settled down and he didn’t have Connor’s curiosity and needs to distract him. At this point in time, after a very good day, Hank could only think about how nice the alcohol would be, but it wasn’t worth it. Not the bottle in there. If it hadn’t been such a good day he may have thought it was worth a trip down the street to the store, but he didn’t want to ruin Connor’s good day either.

Hank checked his watch. It was six o’clock. Connor was awake but looking tired. Hank watched as his heavy eyes blinked slowly. Soon he would be on a normal sleep schedule, no longer on a schedule that prioritized being awake all night. Hank wondered how Connor was doing inside of his head, If he felt the progress was making or if it still too soon to feel a difference.

They ordered Chinese. Connor googled how to hold chop sticks and after a lot of research and a few moments of practice he was an expert. His finger coordination fine tuned from all of those coin tricks. Connor took a shower and changed into a new set of soft and comfortable clothes. Connor was asleep by seven, dead to the world.

Once again Hank was abandoned with his own thoughts. He was ready to get back to work, get back to a case that he could focus on solving instead of sitting at home in a house full of memories and a single bottle to soothe the pain. It was way too early for him to be able to fall asleep. He held the turtle blanket to his nose and breathed in the scent of laundry detergent. Not even the ghost of that black licorice smell.

He draped the blanket over Connor’s slumped over form and then walked to his own room. It was so quiet tonight. Hank hadn’t started at AA yet, but it starts in about fifteen minutes. He could go, hang onto the momentum of this one good day, ride it into tomorrow.

Hank sighed and stood up again. It would be good to get that first meeting out of the way. He didn’t even have to say anything, he just had to be there and make an effort. He couldn’t screw up again. Hank tiptoed out the door and was careful not to jingle his keys too much, Connor didn’t stop the rhythmic breathing of deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank is trying, it's a strong start. Hopefully it lasts.  
> :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank struggles

Alcoholics were depressing in nature. Hank thought it was dumb that the best idea to make people better was to make them talk to other sad, depressing people who got lost in the bottle. Hank had gone to a few of these things while Connor was at Jericho or getting lost in a book or his newly granted access to the internet.

The woman talking was in college, had gotten too used to partying every few days in high school and now couldn’t stop. Another guy got jumped in an alley and beaten half to death and switched to alcohol when they took him off of morphine. What was Hank supposed to tell these people?

The first time he ever got blackout drunk was only a few years before Cole was born. It had been a bad case, a little girl found in a trashbag at the bottom of the dumpster. She was half rotted away, was never even reported missing. Hank went straight to Jimmy’s as soon as the arrest was made, drinking more than he ever had in his life, had woken up on the front porch, freezing cold and sick to his stomach. Hank never did understand how a father could do something like that to his own child.

After Cole died the drinking only got worse. Hank was either at work or finding his way to the bottom of a bottle Sometimes at the same time, the things overlap often. There wasn’t much else they could do after losing their boy. They could either drink themselves until it didn’t hurt anymore or try and forget, pretend it didn’t happen. Hank ran to he bottle and his wife ran away. He hated her, but he also pitied her, when he was drunk enough to let himself think about her.

The only reason he had to stop drinking was Connor, and all AA seemed to do was making him doubt whether it was worth it. He hardly knew Connor, there was no real reason for Connor to be his responsibility anymore. North would look after him, Connor wasn’t so new to the world anymore, Hank didn’t have to be sober. He didn’t have to think about dead girls in the trash and his dead baby boy. He didn’t have to tell it all to strangers. Hank sat perfectly still all through AA. He glared at the tiles as he listened to everything the other’s in the group had to say. Some people had turned to God, others had turned family. Hank had nothing.

He sat in the car for a few minutes once the meeting was over. He didn’t want to be in there talking to people. He didn’t want to be home, in that house full of ghosts. The only other options were to drink or to work. He didn’t feel like he was that ready to give up yet so he decided on work. There was always crime in Detroit and if Hank wanted to get some extra time on some cases then so be it. If he had any luck then he would have a homicide.

There was an armed robbery at a convenience store downtown. Hank told dispatch that he would take it. He could use the overtime anyway, he had just bought Connor a whole new wardrobe. Christmas would start creeping up fast once Halloween was over. He had to get gifts for the office Christmas party. He wasn’t a complete scrooge to everyone all the time. There was usually liquor at the party.

The convenience store was still open, the man insisting that business didn’t stop for a single robbery. Any evidence would have been contaminated. The surveillance footage was grainy. They didn’t show their weapons at all, just pointed inside their coat pockets. They made off with twenty dollars in ones and ran off on foot. The manager just waved him away.

“Why the fuck did you call 911 if you didn’t want the police to help?” Hank said, rolling his eyes and flipping closed his notepad.

“Tourists were in the store buying soda, they never seen a robbery before and called the fucking cops. Dumbasses.” The guy said. He had his feet up on the desk and a book of crossword puzzles on his lap.

Hank was pissed off and tired and he figured he may as well stop looking for excuses not to go home. Connor would still be asleep and Hank could fall asleep before he gets up again. Hank could avoid talking about the meeting just as easily as he could avoid talking at them. Hank didn’t need to talk. He needed a pack of cigarettes. He needed a chocolate bar. He walked down the aisle and picked up a few snacks. He stopped in the aisle in the back of the store. The glass bottles lined the walls. Paper labels telling him the names of whiskeys.

His fingers itched for it. He reached and let his fingers brush over the smooth glass. The urge to lean forward and grab the bottles neck. What did he really owe Connor to warrant this? Sobriety could be too much to ask for. It could be too much for a kid he hardly knew. Hank carried the bottle to the counter.

Hank needed it. He couldn’t forget Cole, not like she could, but he couldn’t handle the constant pain of remembering. Connor would be fin. Hank would give up a lot of things for him, but not this.

Hank swiped his bank card. The transaction was approved. Hank had a cigarette in his mouth when he stepped out of the store. He walked quickly to his car. He wasn’t gentle when he shoved the brown paper bag into the passenger seat next to him. He gripped the steering wheel tight and turned his music up an unbearable amount for the first time in months. He had given up his loud music, he had given up the black licorice smell in the sea turtle blanket, and now why did he have to give up liquor too.

He ignored the bottle next to him, refused to look at it for even a moment. He just drove home slowly and carefully until he pulled up by his house. He hated the brown paper bag, he hated the shame of hiding the bottle in it as if it wasn’t obvious. When he finally got out of the car he had a tight grip on it.

Connor was still fast asleep. His brown hair sticking up against the pillows. One foot was outstretched over the armrest, Sumo was draped over Connor’s back. Hank felt it again, the regret. Hank was tired. He was so damn tired of bouncing between being okay and falling apart. He as tired of the pain and he was tired of hurting Connor. He gripped the bottle tight and walked down the hall to his bedroom.

He could do it. He could open the bottle and drink until everything hurt so much less. He wanted to be numb again. She had mastered the art of forgetting they had a son, Hank couldn’t do that, he couldn’t do anything except drink until the pain was bearable. He opened the closet door and put the bottle in the back, shoved up against the wall, tucked behind a pile of old clothes.

No one had to know it was there. Now there were two bottles in the house, one hidden in Cole’s room for when he wanted to cross that bridge into that room. Another in here, reachable, obtainable, and a pinnacle of how much he keeps failing.

Hank wanted it. He kept imagining the feel of the glass between his fingers, the weight of the bottle as the whiskey splashes around inside. The burn on his tongue.

Sumo whined, scratching at the bedroom door and begging to be let in. Hank opened the door, if only to prevent the mutt from waking Connor up. “Go back to the couch Sumo. You were keeping Connor warm.” Hank said softly, crouching down to run his fingers through the dog’s fur. Sumo whined again, licking at Hank’s face.

“I’m sorry Sumo. I’m not there yet, I won’t give up yet. I promise.” Hank whispered, pressing his face into the dog’s fur. “Go back to the couch, okay? Connor needs you more than I do.”

Sumo was a stubborn dog. He had gotten Hank to sit down and had put his full weight onto the man’s lap. Sumo was comfortable and here to stay and Hank was uncomfortable and wasn’t likely to be getting away. Hank gave up. He laid his head back onto the bed and closed his eyes. It wasn’t too late to go out and find another case, another robbery, another crime, another victim, and another bottle.

He turned his head to the side and smelled it.  His blankets and sheets smelled fresh, recently cleaned and replaced.  Hank hadn't noticed earlier.  He didn't even know when Connor had time to do the laundry without him noticing.  They were clean now.

Hank sighed, trying to let all of the tension bleed out of his body, trying to relax and get rid of the tension. Hank’s knee wasn’t what it used to be and Sumo was a bit heavier than he was the last time he had carried the dog, but Hank managed. Sumo was a good boy, resting his head on Hank’s shoulder and not wiggling too much as Hank stood up.

“We need to feed you less, holy shit.” Hank stumbled, his joints ached, but he was able to make a steady pace back to the living room. As gently as he could, he put the dog back on the couch, nestled in the fur covered space against Connor.

Still a good dog, Sumo only whined softly settled into the space. Connor was still fast asleep, his fingers twitching slightly. Hank almost laughed. Still fidgeting, even in his dreams. Connor looked comfortable. His cheek was squashed against he pillow, arm tossed lazily in front of his face, the sleeve of his new sweater looked damp. Connor drooled when he slept.

Hank watched him for a moment. He used to watch Cole when he slept, when he was sick and his breathing was raspy. He had always been so worried that the kid wouldn’t get better. It was some cruel joke, Hank had always worried about sickness taking his baby away from him but he never imagined a truck skidding over black ice.

Connor had freckles, some so light they almost were hardly really there. The darkest one was on his cheek. Cole didn’t have any freckles. Cole didn’t sleep so soundly unless he was sick, which wasn’t often. Connor wasn’t a kid he was used to. He didn’t know how to take care of someone like Connor.

There wasn’t a single place in this house where Hank could have peace. There was a bottle in both bedrooms, a gun with a picture in the kitchen, and Connor in the living room. The house was haunted, every room filled with something dead. He was tired. He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair off of Connor’s forehead. There was always that small bunch of hair that never laid in place.

Hank pulled his hand back and wondered how Connor could look so peaceful despite everything. There can’t be very many good things in that kid’s mind, he knew about so little in the world and almost all of it was bad. Yet Connor slept like he had no nightmares to worry about. Sumo whined and lifted his head as Hank walked away. He needed to try and get some sleep. Sobriety was exhausting.  It had been a good day today, he didn't want to ruin it by jumping off the wagon just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank is trying and he has made a mitake, but he's trying
> 
> Also, ignore his thoughts on whether or not Connor is worth the effort, Hank is struggling and he doesn't really believe it.


	18. Chapter 18

“Listen to what the teacher tells you to do and be sure to pay attention.” Hank said. Connor scored high on the placement test, he had no doubt that the kid would. Hank still signed him up for GED classes though, he wanted the kid to take his time with school.

“Of course, Hank. I will not be a disruption.” Connor said with a reassuring nod.

Today’s first class was history, one of the few subjects that Connor failed. He didn’t even know the name of the country he was in, let alone where it came to be. He remembered the late night conversation they had as they sat over his test results. ‘Hank we are in a city, correct? Which city?’ Connor had asked that night. There was still so much about the world that Connor didn’t know.

“Have fun, okay?” Hank said. He reached out an tried to wipe the dog fur sticking to Connor’s jacket as well as the pink Ice Cream shirt underneath. His hair was recently washed and combed back. Hank looked him up and down and felt warmth in his chest despite the fact that he hadn’t had any whiskey in over a week.

Connor looked like a well put together mess. Hair neat, clothes without a wrinkle, shoes clean of all mud and slush from the outside. But the colors of his clothes, though not clashing, didn’t really match. His shoes were worn and old even though he kept them clean. They never managed to get rid of all of Sumo’s fur.

“Hank, school is for education. I’m sure there will be more time for fun and activities between classes.” Connor said. He was taking classes at the Community Center, it wasn’t a actual school schedule, it was a piece of paper that Hank had scribbled Connor’s class times on. “Besides, I need to learn history. I’m very behind on the subject. Josh wants to be a history professor. I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t take interest in what he enjoys.”

Connor was nervous. He was still far too good at pretending to be calm and emotionless, but Hank saw the tapping of his fingers pick up speed and his balance shift on his feet. He talked just a bit faster when he was nervous.

“You have money for lunch and your phone if you need to get in touch with anyone. But don’t leave the center, not unless me or someone you know, like North or Simon, comes to get you. There’s lots of activities to do while you wait, but if you get scared or confused then find an adult with name tag and ask for help. Those are the rules.” Hank said. He reached up and cupped Connor’s face. It was the first day of school, Hank didn’t know how he could forget that Connor wasn’t his son.

Connor pulled back quickly, avoiding the touch of Hank’s hands. “I’ll be fine. You’re already late for work and I want to make sure I’m early for class. I have read that sitting in the front row is good way to get on good terms with the teacher.” He said.

“Have a good day, son.”

Hank barely managed a final goodbye before retreating into the room. Connor took a few steps behind the threshold and almost froze. Hank watched him as his head turned to examine the room. From what Hank could see, the room was mostly bare, used for multiple purposes. It looked more like a meeting space with some posters instead of a classroom. Even from behind, every inch of Connor’s posture was stiff and still.

Hank waited for a moment, in case Connor looked back and needed him. Instead Connor walked with firm steps, pace strong and confident. Despite having no idea what his feelings were, Connor was good at pretending he was under control.

There was a moment as Hank stood out in the hallway, watching Connor take a seat at a table in the front of the room, eyes forward, that he had to remember Connor wasn’t Cole. This wasn’t his little boy’s first day of school. This was a grown man taking GED classes.

Hank walked down the hall and nodded at Trudy before marching out the front doors. It was cold today. Still the middle of fall but for some reason the snow was starting to come down heavy in Detroit. There were still trees with yellow and red leaves, holding up the snow in their colorful branches.

Connor would be safe there. The community center was well maintained and cared for. The people here did a special service and a broken neighborhood like this cherished it’s few treasures. Connor would behave. The staff would love him. He would make friends. The kid would be just fine. He didn’t need Hank here.

He went to the station for work, floated through the day until Gavin called asking for updates or info. Hank ignored the calls. He ignored the texts. He picked up his phone every time just in case it was Connor, but it wasn’t. Connor promised to stay at the community center between his classes for the day, but Hank hoped Connor would have at least called to tell him how it went.

Hank’s phone buzzed again, Reed asking about what Amanda looked like. Hank ignored him. Instead he opened his contacts and found Connor’s number. In the short amount of time since Hank had gotten the kid a phone, he had only used it to get in touch with Hank on few occasions, like when he was ready to be picked up from Jericho, or to tell Hank they were out of laundry soap.

‘How did the first class go?’ Hank sent the message and waited.

He just kept typing at his terminal, completing his report a simple case. That’s all he had these days, simple cases and investigations. Nothing that kept him away from home for too long. He jumped in his seat when he heard the vibration of his phone and he snatched off of his desk. The message he had sent to Connor was marked as ‘read’ but hadn’t been responded to just yet. Instead it was another message from Reed, saying it was urgent and that he thinks he had figured out who Amanda is.

Hank rolled his eyes and put his phone back down. Reed wasn’t giving up today. A few minutes after Hank had finished the last of his reports and walked out of the building he saw Reed leaning up against his car. Despite the cold, Reed looked comfortable

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Reed said. He pushed himself up off of the car and held out a large envelope. “I need Connor to ID the photos, see if we got Amanda’s face.”

“This is serious evidence, why are you handing it to me?” Hank said, holding the envelope back out.

“Connor can’t be a key witness once this investigation becomes legit. I got a time limit you know. No arrests yet and all I have is an anonymous source giving me info I can’t make an arrest on and a kid who has been living with the DPD detective who kidnapped him, I can’t use him as a viable witness.” Reed said. He stepped back so he couldn’t take the envelope. “I just need Connor to tell me I have the right person before I can move forward. Besides, none of this is technically official so you’re on the case in Fowler’s eyes, just like I am. I’m just doing all the hard work, you get a hooker to take home.”

Hank hated the cold feeling that sent through his chest. Reed didn’t mean it, to him the implications he was making was a joke, but to Hank it made his fingers itch and a familiar thirst burn his dry throat. Connor was just a kid and that was it. Nothing else anymore. Hank opened the envelope.

“Is that…” Hank trailed off, eyebrows drawn together as he saw the two people in the photograph.

“Elijah Kamski. Forty One year old millionaire.” Reed said.

“I know who he is.” Hank said. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, turning so he could lean against the car instead.

“DPD hasn’t been able to pin anything on him for twenty years. He dropped out of college when hew as eighteen, bought a bunch of property here in Detroit. The club you found Connor at, the club my source is from, and every single slave filled hell hole I have investigated have all been owned by Kamski.” Reed said. He leaned closer and pointed at the photo, jamming his finger against the other woman in the picture. It was an older photo, but the faces were clearly distinguishable. “Amanda Stern. Declared dead around the same time Kamski moved to Detroit.”

“So she died, he dropped out of school and bought a bunch of property that he then turned into sex clubs and kidnapped people.” Hank said slowly, trying to process how it worked in his head.

“I think she’s still alive. Kamski gets the money, all the men or women or drugs, whatever he wants, and then Amanda gets the business to run and she knows she won’t be the one taking the fall for it.” Reed said. “Connor was born in one of these clubs most likely, if we’re right about how old he is then it would have been right around the time Kamski started putting his name on all of the paperwork.”

Hank sighed, long and loud and angry. He opened his car door and got inside, waiting until Reed moved to the other side and slid into the passenger seat.

“Jimmy’s?” Reed asked.

Hank shook his had. “Nope. I picked the wrong time to quit drinking.”

“Holy shit that kid must have one tight ass if he got you to stop being a drunk.” Reed said with a forced laugh.

Hank gripped the steering wheel tighter, making sure his hands didn’t move off of them. He wouldn’t regret beating the shit out of Reed, but right now he wanted to know more about Amanda. Hank wanted to kill her more than he wanted to punch out Reed’s teeth.

“Gavin, this is the only warning I’m going to give you. Imply that I’m fucking that kid one more time and I will beat your goddamn face in and I will be stone cold sober while I do it.” Hank said. He watched the snow fall onto the hood of his car for a moment before he started the engine and turned the heat on high. “We don’t know if Connor was born before or after Kamski came into the picture, so if Connor ID’s the woman in the photo, then we know the two are connected.”

“That’s the idea.” Reed said. “I honestly didn’t know about Amanda, but I’m looking into her, see if maybe we can find any criminal activities before she was declared dead.”

“What about a body?”

“Cremated, from what I read. Can’t DNA test twenty three year old ashes, I don’t think.” Reed said. He reached out and held his hands against Hank’s car heater. “Just show him the photo for me. I’m running out of options on this case. I need a place to look.”

“I’ll see what I can do, now get the fuck out of my car.” Hank said. He was tired. He wanted to go check on Connor. He wanted to break open the bottle he had hidden in his closet.

The community center was toasty warm inside. He texted Connor many times, asking him how it was, that he was on his way, that he was outside. Connor read them, but never responded. His heart beat fast, pounding against his ribs as he scanned the lobby for Connor.

He wasn’t there. Hank walked further, checking the window of each door he passed just in case he could find him in there. When he passed a dark room he slid to a stop, they were playing Finding Dory. Hank remembered coming in and finding Josh and the doodles of fish, the tile screen of the first movie, with Connor sound asleep.

He peeked his head in, about to start causing a scene if he didn’t find his kid in here. Connor was easy to make out among the small children sitting around him, staring with wide eyes at the movie. It was towards the end, the Octopus trying to drive a truck full of fish back to the ocean. Hank pulled out his phone and texted Connor. He saw the kid’s phone light up on his lap and Connor looked down at it, but turned the screen off as soon as the message was read.

Hank slipped into the room and sat towards the back. He felt a tap on his shoulder as a woman whispered to him. “If you’re here to pick up your child then we need to see an ID before we can sign him out.” She said softly.

“I’m here for the big one.” Hank said. “Connor.”

The woman’s smile was easy to see, lit up by the dim blue light of the movie. “Oh, Connor! He’s a sweetheart. I’m glad you’re here.” She said. She settled into the seat next to him. “Is everything alright with him? Does he need any extra help?”

“Extra help?” Hank asked.

“Yeah. He came up to us in the cafeteria when the kids were having lunch, said he was scared and confused and he was supposed to find someone with a nametag when hew as scared and confused.” She was young, had a happiness in the way she talked and moved that must have been wonderful for children, but Hank hated it. “He didn’t know where to sit for lunch, he said he didn’t know where was allowed. I said he could sit with me and the other volunteers, but he said he didn’t want to be in trouble.”

“I’m sorry. He’s had some… issues, but he’s a very smart kid and doesn’t mean any harm.” Hank said. He looked around again, at the children watching the fish movie and the volunteer teachers who stood guard all around the group.

“Oh, he was no problem at all. He was actually worried that we would tell you he was bad, but he is very polite.” She said, leaning over and putting a hand on Hank’s arm. “He was confused was all, and I told him it was fine to ask for help and that he did the right thing.”

Hank sighed. Connor must have been overwhelmed. He must have been frightened, surrounded by strangers and not entirely sure what he could and couldn’t do, every choice he made came with the anxiety of it being the wrong one. Hank had seen the behavior every day back at the house, but he should have known it wouldn’t be any better here.

As the movie ended, Hank thanked the woman for keeping an eye on him, for keeping his kid safe. He was surprised by the sincerity in her voice when she assured him that if Connor needed help, there were people on staff ready and willing to help him. Hank didn’t say anything more. He didn’t know what the woman thought of them, if maybe she thought Hank was a mess or if she thought there was something wrong with Connor or if she suspected the truth. Hank wasn’t going to ask. He wasn’t going to demand details. This wasn’t a murder case, after all.

The lights came up and a man walked in front of all the children. “Okay guys, who knows what kind of fish Dory is?” He asked. A few hands shot into the air, one longer and larger than the rest.

The answers the children ran out were interesting. They had answers ranging from ‘a pretty fish’ to a basic ‘blue fish’. When all the children had a chance to answer, the man pointed to Connor, who had been waiting patiently for his turn.

“The Paracanthurus hepatus. Or Blue Tang.” Connor said. The children laughed at the long, mumbled mess of sounds that Connor pronounced without issue.

The other questions were easier for the kids. Nemo was a clown fish. An octopus can disguise themselves to match surroundings. Beluga whales navigate with echo location. The kids shouted out answers and Connor seemed to be loving it.

Parents came to collect their kids from the Little Sea Explorers Club and all the volunteers wished Connor a good day, thanking him for joining the activity for the day. Connor was still smiling when he followed Hank out into the hallway. His cheeks were flushed pink and Hank decided that he didn’t care that he had been worried sick. Connor had a nice time watching a movie, he had found help when he needed it.

“I’m really proud of you.” Hank said when they got into the car.

“You’re not upset with me?” Connor asked.

“Why would I be?” Hank asked. The car was warm, he had the heater going on the whole drive over. Connor just leaned towards the heater as the car started again and shrugged his shoulders. “You found someone and asked for help.”

“I know when I need help, Hank.” Connor said.

Hank didn’t laugh at the statement, he held it in because although the sentence was ironic, it wasn’t funny. The envelope with the photo sat in the glove compartment. Hank would show Connor later, but not right now.

“Tell me about the movie.” Hank said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I ever tell you guys that this wasn't a Kamski friendly fic? He's not as bad as Amanda, but he's not good at all. At least not in this story. Now he has been mentioned by name and will appear in the story later. We haven't seen the last of him.
> 
> I made Kamski 41 for a reason btw
> 
> Also, Connor's first day of school and he wanders off to watch Finding Dory


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor's been under a lot of stress and sometimes it's hard to pretend for a long time.

Hank kept the envelope in the glove compartment of his car for a few days. Gavin hounded him about it very chance he had, but Hank insisted that he had to take his time, he had to go slow. Connor was so easily lost and overwhelmed. Hank had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, a sickening ache that made him want to throw up. It was the same feeling he got when he drank too much, but the pounding in his head and the shaking of his hands told him that he hadn’t had anything to drink in a while.

Connor kept going back to the center for more classes. He had history readings and social studies projects. He had to learn geography maps and about the solar system. All things Connor had no previous knowledge on. All of it was information that wasn’t necessary to survive on when he spent his life in a club and a single room he ate, slept, and worked in.

The game was on, but Hank watched Connor at the kitchen table instead. The kid was bent over another library book, taking notes on American geography. Connor didn’t even know Detroit was in Michigan. He didn’t know Michigan was in the United States. He didn’t know they were so close to Canada. He knew so little about what had always been on the other side of locked doors for his entire life.

Hank watched him as he looked over worksheets, eyes scanning books quickly until he found the answers. Connor had a pencil between his fingers, twirling it around and around until he needed to write something down.

“They have DNA tests where they can tell you what part of the world you’re from.” Connor said. He lifted his head and looked over to Hank.

“I know. I think it’s a waste of money.” Hank said. His fingers tapped against the can of soda he held in his hand, imagining how nice a beer would be with the game.

“I think it would be nice to know where I come from.” Connor said, looking back down at his papers. He had stopped tapping and twirling his pencil. “What are you thinking about? You’re staring at me.”

Hank shrugged. “Reed wanted me to ask you something.”

Connor’s expression twitched slightly, eyes narrowing as he looked down at the table, but remained mostly neutral. Hank kept watching as he started to put his things away, closing his books and putting away his papers. He didn’t say anything else and Hank didn’t want to ask.

“Don’t you have AA in a few minutes?” Connor asked. Hank looked at his watch, he had the meeting in half an hour.

“It’s important, Connor.” Hank said. A few days of him avoiding the photo and avoiding Connor’s negative reaction to it. Connor didn’t trust them enough to betray Amanda.

“Simon’s my lawyer.” Connor said.

“I know. It’s only one question though.” Hank said.

Connor wrinkled his nose and tilted his head to the side. They sat in silence for a moment. Neither of them moved muscle. Hank stood up, Connor didn’t move.

“I’ll be right back.” Hank said. The kid still stayed perfectly still.

This was a mistake. Connor wouldn’t answer, he would clam up and become scared again. But each day they waited the clubs were open for business. With Connor, it was personal. Hank had met him and once he knows the person in immediate danger he becomes involved. And now that Hank was mostly sober he had to dwell on it, on what would have happened to his kid if Reed had told him to go after someone else.

Connor was still sitting perfectly still at the kitchen table, his hands folded in front of him. He looked nervous, like a guilty man waiting in an interrogation room, fully aware of people watching from behind the glass. Hank walked towards the table, envelope in hand. He pulled out the photo and put it on the table.

“Do you know these people?” Hank asked.

Connor leaned forward to see it. His body was already tense, but at the sight of the photo he went completely stiff, not even moving to breathe. That was answer enough, but Hank still waited. How ever long Connor needed to look before he could decide.

“How old is this picture?” Connor asked.

“About twenty four years.” Hank said.

Connor stared, his fingers tapping a pattern. Hank wondered what would happen if he put this kid at a piano, what his random fidgets would sound like.

“I don’t know them.” Connor said, leaning back quickly.

“You’re a bad liar.”

Connor blinked at Hank’s immediate response, his response dying on his lips. “What?”

“I said, you’re a bad liar.”

“Of course.” He said, his tone a tad higher. Hank had startled him. “I’m a terrible liar. Why do you think my value dropped once I was alone. You people want whatever scene you have in your head to seem real. I’m a character for people to buy for an hour. And I’m worthless at it.”

“Worthless?” Hank said, his face pinching in disgust. Connor’s words came out like a confused stumble, like this was the first time he had thought about it and his words didn’t have any plan.

“I’m trying to play the part you want, Hank, but you keep lying to me. I don’t know what you want. Why won’t you tell me?” Connor said.

It was an avalanche of raw, suppressed emotion that Connor clearly didn’t understand himself. Hank didn’t know how to handle it. Connor was moving, bouncing on the balls of his feet and his hands kept squeezing into tight fists and then shaking back out. The kid was seconds away from making a run for it.

“You don’t have to answer, Connor. The photo isn’t important.” Hank said slowly. Connor wasn’t a witness. Connor wasn’t being interrogated. His kitchen should have never become a place for that. Connor had asked for his lawyer, and Hank had ignored him. “I don’t want anything from you, son.”

“You’re a liar.” Connor said, his voice finally dropping flat again, sounding exhausted. “Stop lying. Just tell me who you want me to be. I tried being a lover, a maid, a son, but you’re never happy with me. I’m just trying to be good.”

“I don’t need you to be any of that.” Hank said.

“You took me for a reason. You won’t sleep with me and you get annoyed when I clean. I’m pretty sure you didn’t steal me just to make sure Sumo is walked and fed.” Connor said, reaching up and rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. “You want me to be Cole, right? So why aren’t you happy?”

“I don’t…” Hank said, shaking his head. He took a step back.

“You said I reminded you of him. You have his picture in that drawer with your revolver. I see it when you’re drinking.” Connor said, pointing to the drawer. The kid looked like he was trying to be calm, trying to appear completely unaffected, emotionless, and failing. “His room is down the hall with all of his things in it. I went in there and made the bed, but then I remembered that you told me I’m not supposed to go in there and so I unmade the bed. I asked Josh not to tell you. He’s like me, he wouldn’t betray me.”

“Connor, what are you…” Hank trailed off. His hands were curled up tight and his chest constricted, making it painful to breath. “You’re out of you mind.”

“You call me ‘son’. You gave me his blanket. You bought me clothes, organized a playdate for when you go to work, and you signed me up for school. I thought you wanted me to be your son. You certainly treat me like a child.” Connor said.

“You are not my son!” Hank couldn’t stop himself from growing louder.

“What happened to him?”

“He died! Shut up!” Hank grabbed the front of Connor’s shirt, pulling him close.

“Why am I here? To replace him?” Connor didn’t sound so startled anymore, he didn’t sound so afraid. He said it as if he was obvious, like he made sense, like Hank would believe him. Hank hated him for it.

He shoved Connor back, the boy stumbled over the kitchen chair and he hit the ground in a loud thud. It was quiet in the kitchen. And then it wasn’t.

“Connor.”

The kid jumped to his feet, backing away from Hank in a panicked flurry.

“Wait, son.”

Sumo was barking, circling both of them, sniffing them, trying to decide who to protect.

“Connor, I’m sorry.”

Hank stumbled over the dog. He heard the door open as he hit the ground. He rolled onto his stomach and watched Connor run, stride fast and steady. Hank stumbled over Sumo again as the dog ran out the door after him. By the time he got out to see, Connor was gone, his footprints in the snow, trampled over by the marks of a big clumsy animal after him.

“God damn it. Connor! Come back!” Hank shouted. It was cold. It was getting dark.

He followed the trail, the cold sinking into his bones and making his joints ache. He ran when he could, following the trail. Connor was fast, but he had no plan and no idea where he was going. The trail twisted every few blocks around another corner. It seemed that he wanted to stay out of sight while being difficult to follow. He couldn’t hear Sumo barking anymore, the messy tracks had turned into the calm stride of a walking dog. He couldn’t distinguish Connor’s footprints anymore. The sidewalks were either shoveled clear or were stamped down by a dozen other people who had walked by recently.

Hank took his eyes off of the useless trail and looked around. There were people walking by, walking to and from the various shops or loitering in the streets. No sign of Connor or Sumo.

“Hey have you guys seen a man with brown hair, skinny, wearing a faded DPD t-shirt. He probably looked upset. He wouldn’t be wearing a coat.”

Hank asked everyone he passed. He tried to remain calm, asking people like a beat cop taking statements. No one had seen him. No one wanted to take a moment to tell Hank if they did. Connor wasn’t here.

Maybe he had turned around, had gone back home once he had calmed down. Hank scanned the area, seeing old buildings and people hurrying along to get out of the cold, whether to huddle in the alleys, find a quiet place to lay low until morning, or heading home. Connor wouldn’t stay out here. He wouldn’t risk freeze to death because Hank asked about a picture and got upset, he would understand once he had calmed down.

Hank walked fast, his hands buried in his pockets as he marched home. Connor would be there. Connor would be safe and alive and they could apologize to one another. It would be fine. They would be okay. Hank wouldn’t ask about Amanda anymore, not if it distressed him so much. Hank pulled out his phone, nothing from Connor.

He texted Gavin instead. ‘Fuck you.’ He typed and sent. ‘Must be her, Connor freaked out just looking at that old picture of her.’

Hank tried to rush home, but his knees and ankles ached and he was gasping for breath. He was old and out of shape. He never had a chance to catch Connor.

“You home? We should talk, kid.” Hank said.

He didn’t see Connor in the living room or the kitchen. The chair was still knocked over onto the ground. Connor wouldn’t have left it there if he had come back. Connor liked things tidy. He wasn’t here. He would come back. He had to come back. It was getting cold and Sumo had followed him. Hank huffed out sad laugh as he wandered down the hall. Connor wouldn’t let Sumo be outside in the cold all night.

Hank’s steps faltered when he reached the end of the hall. His hand shot out as he leaned on his door. He had a gun safe under his bed. He had the bottle in his closet. He had a bottle in one of Cole’s drawers. Hank pushed off of his hand and turned, leaning his body against Cole’s bedroom door. What had he done?

Cole’s room was warm. It was the larger of the two bedrooms, but had the best working heat in the house. When she was pregnant, Hank had moved everything over to the other room so it could be for the baby. So he could have the room that would be just a bit warmer in the winter. Hank ever understood vent systems, he didn’t know why it did that.

He closed his eyes as his back hit the other side of the door, closing it behind him. He didn’t want to see it just yet. He didn’t think he could ever. What was he thinking? Hank felt that raw and bleeding bit of guilt start to rot away his stomach. It smelled like licorice.

Hank opened his eyes and walked to the dresser. He dropped to his knees, his shoulders shaking with the effort to keep from curling towards the floor. The air in the room felt so heavy, it tasted so sweet. The first thing he saw when he opened the bottom drawer was all of Cole’s shirts. Besides the sea turtle blanket, Cole had nothing about fish. He had liked monster trucks. Half of his t-shirts had monster trucks, some with faces like some cartoon.

Hank didn’t know how he managed to get the bottle in here to begin with. He didn’t know how he managed to get it out again. It burned down his throat and he had to keep drinking or else he would start crying and he hadn’t done that in years.

The front door slammed shut and Hank pulled the bottle from his mouth. He gasped, letting out a desperate shout as soon as he had air. He didn’t know what he was going to yell down the hall, but he had to say something. He had been trying and failing to say something for hours.

“Connor, you better have brought my dog home!” Hank shouted once he had some air, once he could think. The bottle found his lip again. He tilted his head back and drank fast as the footsteps came down the hall. His hand tightened around the bottle, Cole’s monster truck shirt on his lap.

“Where’s Connor?” North said, leaning against the door frame as she pushed the door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys are bad at feelings. I've been waiting to write this scene and the next scene since the beginning.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have been waiting to wrte this since the very beginning of the story. This is the emotion I've been building on.
> 
> I'm trying something new so if you figure it out please throw theories at me.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Hank asked, settling the bottle down onto the ground but he didn’t take his hand off of it.

“Did I not make it obvious when I asked where Connor was two seconds ago?” North asked. She pushed off the door frame and took a few steps into the room. “He called me, immediately hung up, and then ignored all of my attempts to call him back.”

She was looking around the room, eyes lingering on Cole’s bed, clothes, and toys. She observed his son’s life without feeling it the way Hank felt it. She didn’t know the pain this place held. Hank wanted to scream at her to leave, that this was no place for her. Connor should never have come in here. The bed was messy, but it wasn’t because of Cole anymore. Connor had touched them and moved them and took away another thing that Cole left behind.

“We had a disagreement. He left. I don’t know where he’s at.” Hank said. He lifted the bottle to his lips again.

North watched him as he drank, her eyes narrowing. She must be judging him. Hank knew what the world thought of him. To everyone, he was just an old, bitter drunk. He was a mess. He made the same mistakes over and over again and disappointed so many people. There was no point in being sober. All these years Hank had to sit in this house with his bottle and the weight of his grief sinking into his feet to hold him here. He couldn’t just run away, he couldn’t forget. He couldn’t pretend like Cole had never happened, like his little boy’s life was something he could just leave behind. Drinking helped with the pain.

“Connor thought he was here to replace him.” Hank said. He put the bottle down again and instead held the small child’s t-shirt in both hands, his thumb brushing over the monster truck’s character face. There was always so much pain.

North didn’t say anything for a moment before she sat down on the floor, cross legged, next to him. Hank furrowed his eyebrows and held the bottle to her, feeling a bit of tension melt away as she tilted it back and took a long drink.

“You lost someone?” She asked, passing the bottle back.

Hank held the shirt to his face again and closed his eyes. Licorice. Black Licorice. Hank remembered Cole’s hands whenever they played, the kid trying to climb up onto his shoulders, smelling so sticky sweet.

“My son. Cole.” Hank said. He looked up at the walls, of the drawings taped to the, the pictures on the window covered in faded pictures. “He was six.”

North was looking at him. Hank could feel her eyes, he wondered if there was pity or sympathy or just thoughtfulness. He didn’t want to look over and see. Maybe she didn’t care. She was here for Connor, she didn’t even like Hank if he remembered correctly.

“I didn’t mean for Connor to think that’s why I wanted him here. I didn’t think of it like that. I just wanted to keep him safe, but everything he saw, everything he thought, was so warped. How could he think that I wanted that?” Had Hank implied it? Had he said something when he was drunk and grieving? Looking back, he couldn’t see anything different about Connor’s behavior. The first thing Connor had done after that night was wake Hank up to get him out of the house before Josh arrived. Had that been the day Connor broke that rule and come into this room, touched Cole’s things.

“Connor is from a different world. This is likely the first time he has ever seen himself as anything other than a prop or a toy. He mentioned it to me before, how he doesn’t know what you want. I didn’t realize he was this deep into that mindset.” North said. She drank, they continued to pass the bottle. “How did this argument happen?”

Hank was being interrogated. He was a cop for fuck’s sake and he knew when someone was pushing for information. It was good, she wasn’t here for Hank and his son. She was here for Connor.

“I wasn’t there for him.” He said. She had to see him, see what he had done over months to this kid. From the beginning. “He wanted to talk about his books, his fish, and what he had cleaned. He would be excited and I would blow him off. I wanted to talk about Amanda. I wanted to keep dragging him back there to tell me, but even then I blew the case off to.”

He had no idea what he had been doing the past few months. He wasn’t helping anyone. He had to wonder if maybe it was true, he kept Connor here because of Cole. That’s what Hank had supposedly said that one drunken night, that Connor reminded him of his boy. Hank had to tell North. She hadn’t wanted Connor to stay with Hank to begin with, she had been more than willing to look for other shelter. She should take Connor away because god damn Connor was right about him.

“This is my fault. I hurt him. I confused him, no wonder he’s not getting better.” Hank said. His body grew tense, fist tightening on the bottle. Connor ran away because he was afraid of him.

“Anderson, that’s not true.” North said.

“It is. I was trying to replace Cole. I’m just as bad as she was. She can run away and pretend she never had a kid and now I think I can replace him with some vulnerable, broken man.” Hank said, his voice sounded like gravel as he spoke louder.

North shook her head. “I think you’re wrong.”

“You don’t know. You don’t know what it was like, losing him.” Hank said.

“I don’t know what it’s like?” North said, staring down at the bottle as she took it from Hank, her nose wrinkling. “I was a whore in a fancy club. All the time they had me and you think I’ve never lost a child?”

Hank knew North had that background, they had told him when they assigned her to Connor. Hank remembered when Jericho began their public campaign and the human trafficking problem in Detroit was put into the spotlight. The leaders were under scrutiny by the powerful with deep dark pockets and all their secrets were dragged out.

Hank had known, but he never really thought to deeply on what that meant. He never wanted to think about it, not even with Connor.

“I remember. I was so young, I just wanted to go home. The men, all of them are burned into my memory. I think I was a teenager at that point, but only barely. The owner, he liked me a lot. He was the only one allowed to use me without condom. That was where my value was.” North whispered. She wanted to tell Hank something important and Hank leaned towards her to listen.

Hank was compelled to listen. She seemed to have already decided and he had no right to interrupt her. He had a horrible idea on where her story was going, she was going to share her grief with him. Just like AA, where everyone talked and shared their burdens and they were supposed to feel better. AA was the worst part of sobriety. Hank was thankful for the bottle.

“I loved my boys. Twins, can you believe it. I was a kid, less than five feet tall, and with two baby boys in my stomach.” North hummed, her hand making the motion over her stomach, tracing our an imaginary, large belly. “I remember feeling so big I thought they were going to burst out of me. The first one born was all purple and blue. He was so tiny and beautiful and still. He was dying. They let me hold him, said he would die anyway so they may as well leave him with me. He wasn’t breathing very well, but he was breathing. They laid him on my chest, I felt his skin on mine. I loved him.” North leaned back, her eyes closed as her face tilted towards the ceiling. “My second baby boy came a few minutes later. I didn’t even know it was twins until that moment, I just knew I was huge. My second boy healthy and perfect, sink pink from how hard his little lungs screamed. I didn’t get to hold him, they took him away. And then they took my little baby away too.”

Hank listened to every word, feeling her grief roll off her. Hank remembered when Cole was born. So small he could disappear into his mother’s arms. It was the worst thing he could imagine, a baby in a place like that, born into slavery, born into a place that left North and Connor with those haunted looks in their eyes.

“Where are they?” Hank asked.

North opened her eyes and looked at him. “I don’t know.”

There was so much grief in a single sentence. Hank was thankful for the bottle, the burn down his throat, and the ease of the pain as he drank. It was a temporary ease, but it was still a path to less pain.

“I only got to be their mother for a day. Just that one moment. Then they were taken away from me. My first boy probably died. Sometimes I find myself hoping so, how fucked up is that.” She looked down and hunched in a bit, taking the bottle and lifting it to her lips. “I’m a fucking social worker now. I’m licensed. You know what I’m afraid of? One day one of my boys are going to walk through the door in need of help and I won’t know them.”

“I’m sorry.” Hank said. There wasn’t anything else he could say.

“You weren’t trying to replace Cole. You’re feelings towards Connor may be influenced by Cole, but you’re not actively trying to fill Cole’s space in your life.” North said. She rubbed her hand over her face. “If you had moved Connor into this room and tucked him in at night and acted like he was six the I would worry.”

“I’m not a fucking lunatic.” Hank said.

“You don’t seem like one.” North said, shaking her head. “Tell me about the fight.”

Hank laughed. He had almost forgotten how serious the situation was. Connor was out on the streets of Detroit and Hank was crying about how his baby had been in the ground for a few years.

“I shoved him and he ran. My dog ran after him. I followed his tracks seven blocks east, until it got too crowded for me to find them.” Hank said.

North nodded and pushed herself up to her feet. “Connor is a smart man, he would have found a safe place. I made sure he knew all of his options.” She said. She looked down at him, pausing for a short moment of silence. “I’m going to find him and I will take care of him. You can take a break.”

Hank wanted to protest, but the words died on his throat. The breath he let out was tight and scratchy. The alcohol was starting to burn too much. He let her go, he pressed the shirt to his nose and inhaled the scent. His son had been real. An actual living person who he had held and loved and lost. He couldn’t be replaced. Hank hadn’t cried in so long but he curled forwards and let his mind, already hazy with liquor, let all that pent up pain sink out of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this has a happy ending.
> 
> I'm really nervous about posting it. I've imagined this scene or so long.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you al so much for your wonderful and insightful comments last chapter. I was so excited about every single one.

In the morning, Hank woke up with a pounding headache, a dead cellphone, and an empty liquor bottle. He was on the couch, aware enough to be thankful he didn’t wake up on the floor of Cole’s room, sober and in pain. He was worried about Connor. The kid’s blankets, which had been left neatly folded on his cushion, were now a wrinkly mess that had been sloppily pulled over him in the night.

It got cold in the living room at night, especially with winter coming fast and hard in the middle of October. Connor must have been freezing out here. All Hank had done to make him more comfortable was give him a child’s old blanket. Hank held it up to his nose, there was no sweet candy smell, but it didn’t smell like laundry detergent anymore. It smelled a bit like Sumo, but not as bad. Mostly it smelled like some kind of flower, a bit florally, but Hank couldn’t place it.  
  
He tried refolding the blankets, but he couldn’t get the creases out like Connor could. He didn’t waste his time. As he waited for his phone to charge, intent on holding off until it was at a hundred percent before he had to turn it on and look at it. He was nervous, so he kept himself busy. He threw the empty bottle in the trash and started picking up the kitchen. It was damn near spotless, not even a trace of the dust and hair that used to collect in the corners of the linoleum because Hank was lazy with his mopping. Hank tried to find the least clean places in the kitchen and scrubbed it clean after he brewed himself a pot of coffee. He was intent on leaving nothing to be left undone for when Connor comes back home.

He glanced at his phone, fifteen percent charged. He wouldn’t turn it back on until I was at a hundred. He needed to think.

Hank picked up the knocked over chair and the mess of dog food Sumo had left in his rush over to where they were fighting. He cleaned up everything physical sign of last night, burying the black label bottle deep into the trash can, but it didn’t mean he stopped thinking about it.

It was hard to tell who was right, Hank for behaving a certain way or Connor for seeing his behaviors in the worst possible light. He dusted and organized the bookshelf, looking over the books Connor had touched most and what he had gotten from the library, the giant picture encyclopedia of aquarium fish. He hadn’t told Connor to be a kid but he had done nothing to stop Connor from assuming it.

The phone was at thirty seven percent.

Her would call Markus, ask him for options. He didn’t want to distract North from finding Connor, comforting him, helping him, or however far she had gotten since she left last night. He would call Markus and ask what the hell he was supposed to do to help a grown man who was out in the world for the very first time without accidentally treating him like a stupid child. The books were proof of his mistake. Connor was learning about DNA testing in court cases, finding families, finding killers, finding lost children decades after they vanished.

Connor was brilliant, his problem solving skills were built for survival, and even if it was out here in the world instead of a locked room in a basement underneath Detroit. Hank looked at his phone, forty two percent. Connor would have found a warm place to sleep, but Hank was worried about what sort of things the kid would agree to have it. Hank reached for the book that Connor had left sitting on the coffee table, the most recent one he had been reading.

It was a worn paperback from the library and a quick look told him it had been checked out again and again the past few weeks. He opened it, smiling softly at the dog eared pages with highlighted sections and notes scribbled neatly in the margins. Connor had incredible handwriting, even his little bits of vandalism looked like additions to the book.

It was about DNA, about heredity, about something or another being passed on from parent to child in the blood and how it could be traced back thousands of years. Connor had written notes in neat print on the back page. This was something Connor enjoyed, something he turned to when left no his own.

Hank closed the book and put it back where Connor had left it. He stood up and checked his phone. Sixty eight percent. Hank debated on whether or not he should break the promise to himself. He hadn’t figured out things for himself yet. He didn’t know what to do with himself, a fucked up drunk in this haunted house. He fell off the wagon at the first mention of Cole. He went running back to the alcohol to bury the first time the pain and grief had managed to surprise him.

He wasn’t over Cole. That had never been a secret. Everyone who knew Hank knew he was no where near being done with grief. He may not have ran off and pretended it didn’t happen, but he still locked up that room and locked in the pain with liquor and chance at a bullet. He never should have been allowed to shelter Connor, he was too fucked up to take care of anyone.

Eighty one percent.

Hank jumped to his feet and rushed to his bedroom. He couldn’t do this anymore. He had shoved Connor to the ground yesterday, had shouted at the mention of his son’s name out of Connor’s mouth. He was sober yesterday when it happened, not a drop of liquor in his body. His temper was even shorter when he was drunk. He was too disgusted with himself to spend too much time think about what he would have done had he still been drinking.

He grabbed the bottle hidden at the bottom of his closet. It felt cold in his hand. It had a familiar weight, swinging from his hand as the whiskey sloshed up and down on the inside. He knew he didn’t have the patience or the resolve to just pour it down the drain. He couldn’t watch it circle in the sink as it slowly splashed out of the bottle. He wouldn’t be able to do that if he had to watch that.

Hank went to the bathroom and threw the bottle into the bathtub, tension easing a bit at the sound of breaking glass. In a moment it was gone. The entire unopened bottle was gone in an instant. It was no longer temptation, just a mess to clean up. Hank would clean up the bathroom next.

He had to clean up the glass, he couldn’t have any of this left when Connor got back. Connor would need a warm shower once he got back. It would be fucked up if he didn’t clean up the glass. He was careful not to cut his fingers, focusing on the edges of the glass so he could avoid the sharp ones. He took his time. He made sure it was all carefully wrapped up and thrown away. The water ran in the shower for a while, making sure all the small pieces Hank had missed were washed away.

Once he was done with the bathroom he let out a relieved sigh. He could see the appeal, cleaning the house. It was calming, he did things with his hands and had things orderly and clean. Hank hoped Connor found it as peaceful as he did. The thought of that boy wandering around his home thinking he had to be a maid, looking for ways to show his worth, how good he was, and hating every minute of it. A small piece of Hank hoped that Connor didn’t do something he hated just because he thought it was what Hank had wanted.

He would do the cleaning from now on. When Connor came home then Hank would make sure there was no mess laying around, there would be no perceived obligation to do a service here. There was no part waiting to be performed here.

There was a quick, soft knocking on the door. Whatever relaxation Hank had found in the time he spent cleaning up his mess had disappeared in a moment, replaced by worry. He only hesitated for a moment before he rushed to the door and swung it open. Sumo pushed past his legs and into the house. Josh was the only one standing on the front steps.

“Where’s Connor?” Hank asked. Sumo was already digging into his food bowl.

“North didn’t text you?” Josh asked. He stayed rooted in his spot on the steps, peeking over Hank’s shoulder into the house. He seemed unsure if he wanted to come inside or not.  
“My phone was off.” Hank said. He stepped back away from the door, leaving it open as an invitation but no longer crowding around it. “Is he alright? Did he find somewhere warm? Where did he go?”

Josh stepped into the house and closed the door to keep the cold out. He didn’t take any further steps into the house. “I guess after he ran off he walked to one of the shelters from the list North gave him and then someone alerted Jericho that he may need help. North picked him up last night.”

Hank fell back on the couch, a heavy heap of dead weight, and Sumo ran over to rest his head on Hank’s leg. Not everything was okay, nothing was magically made better, but Sumo was home and Connor was safe. He could see his phone over on the counter, see the green LED that said it was fully charged. The house wasn’t clean yet. He wasn’t ready to look at it.

Hank stood up. Sumo whined as his head fell from Hank’s leg. He walked steadily towards the counter, eyes glued to the phone.

“How was Connor doing? Did you see him at all?” Hank unplugged his phone from the charger and turned it on. He hated how long these things took to power up.

“Connor didn’t seem much of anything. He wanted to talk about anything else other than what he was feeling. The weather, a dozen different facts about the kind of clouds he saw today.” Josh said. His whole body was tense, arms crossed tightly in front of him.

“Are you afraid of me?” Hank asked. He didn’t know why he needed to know, but the answer felt important.

“I’m cautious, that doesn’t mean I’m afraid.” Josh said.

Hank opened the text messages as soon as he had his password typed in. North was letting him know that Connor was safe and she was taking him to breakfast. The message was timed at three in the morning and Hank had a horrible feeling that all the time spent getting Connor onto a normal sleep schedule was wasted.

“Caution is probably smart. You knew how fucked up I was, always so scared to leave Connor with me.” Hank said. There was no more liquor in the house and Hank took a deep breath, a short pause in his thinking to remind himself not to go get any. “I understand why you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t trust you.” Josh said. He glanced down and that was when Hank noticed how tightly the kid was holding his cell phone, either checking the time or checking messages. “North doesn’t hate you either, she’s been working on moving past hatred. You’re not one of us. You’re a real person.”

“You’re a real person too.” Hank said. Connor had said something like that. It made him feel sick, seeing these people think of themselves like props or toys instead of like a living human.

“I didn’t used to be. Or I forgot I was.” Josh said. He turned his head to the side as he thought. “I wasn’t born into it like a lot of the others were. I know I’m real, but sometimes when people spent their whole lives with nothing but that it takes awhile to pull them out of it. It’s hard, learning how to be a person again, being free. Sometimes it’s hard to realize that every free person isn’t a master, or captor, or owner. So I don’t trust you. You’re not one of us. I’m working on it.”

“It’s okay if you don’t trust me. I’m not taking things personally right now.” Hank said.

Josh looked down at his phone again. “Connor’s not scared of you either, if you’re wondering. He just needs a bit more time to realize you’re not supposed to be his owner or anything.” Josh shrugged his shoulders as his eyes drifted to the poorly folded blankets on the couch. “He’s been through a lot. Even I don’t understand.”

Hank sat down again, staring at his phone as he waited for more messages or updates. The last one had been sent so long ago, three in the morning and just a simple message stating Connor was found and being fed. But nothing else since.

“He’s going to be okay. Whether he learns to trust me or not. Even if he never wants to see me again, he’ll be okay.” Hank said. He leaned forward and put his phone facedown on the coffee able.

“He likes you. He might realize that this isn’t the best place for him to be, but he might still want to see you.” Josh said. Hank leaned forwards, propped his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. The house wasn’t fully clean yet. Josh took the first step away from the door. “North sent me to get his things.”

Hank let out a long sigh. “Yeah.” He said. Hank took deep breath and held it in as he pushed himself to his feet again. He grabbed the blankets, both of them. “It’s probably for the best. I did kinda pay a thousand dollars to get him alone and then I stole him. Of course he has trouble seeing me as anything other than an owner.”

He held the blankets towards Josh but the kid didn’t come forward to take it. Hank set them down on the table and moved on to grab Connor’s books. His library card was being used as a bookmark. He grabbed Connor’s phone charger, grabbed his small pile of soft clothes, worksheets, his backpack Hank had gotten him for his classes. Hank even started taking movies off of the shelf that Connor liked, whether they were Connor’s movies or not.

He got everything put together, shoved into a bag for Josh to carry. His heart was pounding fast, his grip on the bag tight. Lavender. That’s what Connor’s stuff smelled like. Like one of those lavender air fresheners that Tina kept in her patrol car. He didn’t want to let it go, but he couldn’t keep Connor here.

“It was his choice. But only a temporary one, he wants time. He just wants it to be able to think in peace.” Josh said.

Hank put the bag on the ground and stepped back from it. He was giving it space, backing away from Connor’s things and giving Josh room to approach it comfortably. Hank wished he had a drink, had something to numb how he felt today. Everything had fallen apart yesterday and there was no way to go back and stop it. Hank didn’t want to feel so much pain, but he also wasn’t going to let himself drown in the bottle anymore.

“Tell Connor that if he ever wants to come back, he will have a place here.” Hank said.

Josh picked up the bag and swung it over his shoulder. Sumo lowered his head onto the ground and whined softly as Josh walked to the door with Connor’s things. This was a bad feeling. Connor wasn’t Cole, Hank didn’t feel the same thing he felt when he had lost him, but he did feel a sense of grief. Connor wasn’t a replacement part or a character demanded to perform. Connor was leaving and Hank was going to miss him, miss the small bit of confusing life he had brought.

Josh left without another word. Once the door shut behind him Hank jumped to his feet and went to the garage. There wasn’t much in there, but he had a few folded up cardboard boxes sored behind a few shelves. He grabbed them and a roll of tape and went back to the house.

He had to do it. Connor was really gone. He had really fucked up so much that Connor didn’t feel like he needed to be here. Hank wasn’t giving him enough space to think. Hank didn’t have the understanding that Jericho did, about what Connor needed to feel like a person. Hank didn’t know how to help him learn stuff like that, he didn’t know what it meant to come from that place and Hank was proud of Connor for making that decision for himself to get to a place that can actually help him.

Hank just wanted to be the man who could give him a solid foothold when he was ready.

Hank stopped outside of Cole’s door. The room had been shut up tight for years, everything left of Cole’s life almost exactly how he had left it. The memories festered in here. Hank opened the door and the stale smell of sweetness only drifted by. He looked at it, eyes drifting over the dresser, the lamps, the layer of dust on the toys. Cole’s bed, which used to be a balled up, wrinkled mess of blankets where the kid had left it, was now smooth. The blankets were folded at pressed angles, as if it had been neatly made and then neatly unmade.

Hank put the boxes and the tape in front of the door and took step backwards. He left the door open, letting the room really breathe for the first time. He couldn’t do any more right now. He couldn’t go in there and start putting it all away yet. Hank still had to clean the rest of the house. He had to get everything sorted out here for himself. Hank decided to start tidying up the garage, make space for the boxes when he get to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor isn't gone gone. He will be in the next chaper, I promise. He's not "moving out", he's just giving himself space with his peolpe to figure out.


	22. Chapter 22

Hank had cleaned every inch of the house, pulling out furniture and finding things that had been long forgotten. A keychain Cole had made him, his wedding ring that he had thrown across the house when she left, a twenty dollar bill he had under the couch. All things he had assumed had simply vanished over the years.

Hank found things that he hadn’t even known were there. Connor had a small shoebox of snacks hidden under the couch. Small things, shiny buttons and sparkly rocks. In the box was also a small figurine of the Virgin Mary and a small plastic package of lavender scented wax. Hank didn’t know where any of it came from, but Connor had to know it was there. When Hank moved the couch he had found not a single bit of trash or dust. Connor had cleaned under here, so either he had found it and left it or Connor had collected these things and hid them himself.

Hank put the lid back on the box and left it where he had found it. There was nothing to clean under the couch so Hank left it alone.

He had spent the past few days either working any case he could get his hands on or finding some random part of the house to clean. He had left Cole’s door open, a reminder not to forget that he had to get that done when he was done with the house. He had to face it, not lock it away anymore.

There was nothing left to clean. He had left anything Connor had stashed away where he had found it, but every other inch of the house was tidy and clean. It hadn’t been hard, Connor had gotten most of it done anyway. Even Hank’s bedroom didn’t need as much work. Connor had kept himself busy, leaving nothing for Hank to distract himself with.

He texted North.

‘How’s the kid doing?’ It had only been a few days. Connor hadn’t called, or come to see him, or sent a message through anyone and Hank didn’t know if he was allowed to reach out first.

His phone buzzed a few minutes later. ‘Ask him yourself’ was all the message said.

That counted as permission in his book, so he sent the message directly to Connor’s number. He waited, silently hoping for a response. He didn’t need an answer, he would survive if Connor didn’t want to talk to him right now. He worried was all. The house was quiet and empty, Sumo laid on the couch whining and barking and Hank felt like there was just another ghost in the house.

‘I’m fine Hank.’ The message said when it finally appeared on his phone.

It had taken Connor nearly five minutes to respond back, faster than Hank thought he would get one, if he got one at all. Connor had never really cared to text him back before. Hank smiled to himself and fought down the urge to harass the kid with questions.

‘I hope you’re having a nice time. Sumo misses the hell out of you.’ It seemed like an innocent enough message. It seemed safe and nonthreatening.

Hank sat on the couch, holding the phone tight with one shaking hand and the other he kept busy by petting Sumo’s head. The next message took longer to come. Hank saw his message get marked as read and he saw the small dots that indicated a response was being typed, but then it stopped, and started again a moment later.

It went on like that for a few minutes. Hank put his phone down, not wanting to see the struggle with typing and erasing whatever he needed to say. The game was on. His team was losing, but it would have to do. If he yelled at a referee or a player for doing something stupid then it would be a nice way to get the aggression out.

His phone buzzed as it came back from commercial and he didn’t hesitate to check.

‘You can bring Sumo. I asked Markus and he said it was allowed.’ A second message appeared a moment alter. 8941 Lafayette Avenue. An address.

Hank stared for a moment. Was Connor letting him know it was alright to visit? Was he assuming too much or was it obvious that giving Hank the address without prompting meant he was being invited over.

‘I can bring him now tomorrow afternoon, if you’re up for it.’

Hank sent the message and put his phone face down on the cushion next to him. He didn’t want to see the response right away. He looked back over his shoulder, down the hall, at the open door that had been airing out for days. Hank had to look into that room every day. He hadn’t spent too much time on it, hadn’t been able to look for too long without wanting a nice tall drink.

The phone never vibrated, it never alerted him to a new notification. Hank wouldn’t care which decision Connor made, if the kid needed space then he would give it to him, but he didn’t want to assume too much too quickly. Connor may just be giving him the info for the case, or for some other form of misunderstanding Hank’s intentions.

Hank also didn’t want to make Connor to feel stood up. He didn’t want Connor to think he was coming but they had never made clear plans, so he felt stood up like a girl at prom. Hank needed a yes or no answer. He picked up the phone. Connor had read the message, he just wasn’t writing anything.

‘I can wait. If you would rather I not come.’ Hank said.

His phone pinged.

‘Bring Sumo.’

It was as close to permission as he would likely ever get.

Hank watched the game for the rest of the night. He didn’t know for sure who had one, but from what he saw from the first half of the game it was likely not a win for his team. He decided not to look up the score. He had spent half the evening drifting off, letting his thoughts wander. Lafayette Avenue was on the better off part of town, where the houses were all completely up to code and free of graffiti.

Markus must have run the place, some fancy Jericho shelter maybe. Someplace safe and accommodating for someone like Connor. Someplace Connor should have been in from the start. Hank wouldn’t dwell on guilt. That would only make the temptation to drink worse.

He went to bed early, popping a few melatonin tablets to hope for a quick path to sleep. He laid there in bed for a while, keeping his breathing slow. He left the door open, when Sumo was done groaning and whining in the living room he would come into the bed room and sleep sprawled out on Hank’s feet.

He woke up feeling groggy, his head pounding. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking for a few days so he blamed sobriety on that. Hank was not nervous. He wasn’t scared of chasing down murder suspects, he was not scared of going to see a twenty something kid.

He let Sumo outside and filled up his food and water bowl. He told Fowler he needed the day. Reed hadn’t messaged him in a while, not at all since Hank had told him Connor went to stay at Jericho. Reed was too busy with a case, Hank understood that. He didn’t need anyone to check in on him. He wasn’t a danger to himself. Hank didn’t need anyone to make sure he was okay. Still, the house felt quiet and empty. Hank had spent the past few years alone, but not the loneliness was unbearable.

Sumo finished his food and whined. He wasn’t happy these days either.

“Want to go see Connor?” Hank asked.

Immediately the dog’s head perked up. He barked and started wiggling with energy. He was on his feet, darting around Hank at the table, thinking that he meant right now. Hank looked at his phone. No messages. Ten fifteen in the morning. Connor was expecting them in the afternoon. He was never on time for anything, but maybe it was better to be early rather than late.

Sumo wasn’t as dumb as Hank liked to pretend. He was a good boy, he loved Connor. He loved that boy, Sumo had loved the extra company and friend to give him attention all day long. Hank would show up early for Sumo’s sake. Connor would believe that. He didn’t need Connor to think he was overeager. He didn’t want to startle him. He didn’t want Connor to misunderstand again.

The neighborhood wasn’t something Hank got to see often when he wasn’t looking into a murder. He didn’t look at the houses and wonder what they looked like inside, if they were comfortable, or if the people who lived in each of them were miserable. Lafayette Street seemed a bit more modern, the architecture was sleek and simple, with solid shapes and smooth looks to them. Hank liked it. They felt interesting, instead of like a hundred year old haunted houses.

8941 held a similar theme to the rest of the block. Modern style. At least he wasn’t going to have to deal with weird traditional rich people. Sumo was out of the car and barking at the front door in seconds. Hank stuck his hands in his pockets, feeling far too empty handed. What was polite to rich people? Are guests expected to bring gifts? Bottles of wine? If Hank did that it would be a five dollar bottle and it would be gone by the time he got here.

The door opened and Sumo darted in. A woman made a loud noise and Hank stepped forward quickly, grabbing the girl’s hand before she fell over. Once she was on her feet she yanked her hand back and stepped away. Hank stepped back as well. Five seconds into the house and someone as already afraid of him.

“Sorry, I’m Hank. Connor is expecting me.” Hank said.

“You’re Hank?” She said. She smiled, but it was stiff and cautious. “We weren’t expecting you until this afternoon.”

“Sumo wanted to see Connor. He missed the kid the past few days.” He said.

The woman nodded slowly. Hank looked away from her and towards the house. It felt spacious. There was a lot of light and it didn’t smell like wet dog and old whiskey. Connor must be happy here. He must feel freer here.

“I’m Kara, by the way. It’s nice to meet you. Connor mentions you a lot.” Kara said. She started walking down the hall and Hank had a feeling he was meant to follow. He walked behind her, keeping up with her strong stride. “Every time he has a thought its always ‘Hank says this’ or ‘Hank does that’. He’s happy you’re coming.”

Hank listened. He hung on every word, trying to decide if she was being honest or not. Considering the how their last encounter went, as well as every encounter before that. Hank wondered if he could start smoking again, get over the need to hold the bottle in his fingers and hold it to his lips. There were a dozen small habits that he got comfortable with alongside his addiction, if he was ready to call it that.

They walked outside again and Hank looked up at the sky. Cloudy, but it didn’t look like there was any threat of snow or rain. The air was crisp, the rich somehow could afford cleaner air than the rest of Detroit. There was a greenhouse on the property, a small glass house a few yards from the mansion. Sumo was sitting at the door, whining quietly but tail wagging fast.

They stopped at the door. Hank saw shapes moving around through the glass and walls of plants. He couldn’t tell how many or who they were. He could be walking into a trap right now. He took a step forward, flinching back when Kara put a hand up to stop him.

“He’s been pretty stressed. I’m going to have to ask you not to make him upset. They really like Connor so they’ll be mad if you do.” Kara said and then pushed through the door without leaving room or a breath.

The room wasn’t as cold, the hair felt warm and humid and tasted sweet. Three heads popped up at the sound of Sumo’s frantic barking and Hank’s attention zeroed in on Connor. He had on a gardener’s apron, hands in clean gloves, with a watering can in one hand and a little girl was holding the other.

“Hank?” Connor said, at the same moment Sumo started attacking the girl’s face with slobbery kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may or may not be an actual grown up conversation next chapter.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have hit a financial pinch recently and so I have been focusing more effort on my comissions. This will still be updated, but less frequently until I get those finished. I appreciate the patience.

The girl squealed with giggles as Sumo licked wildly on her face, knocking her to the ground gently. Connor dropped to his knees, watering can hitting the ground with a sloshing thud, splashing the ground around him. Sumo, forgetting he wasn’t a lap dog, jumped up to put his front paws on Connor’s shoulders to lick at his cheeks and push his way onto Connor’s legs.

“Good boy, Sumo. Easy now, you have to be gentle.” Connor said softly.

The other man was still standing, taking a few steps back. “Yes, little girls can be hurt by big animals.” He said, but he was staring at Hank and Kara.

Hank stuck his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. He looked down at his muddy boots, wondering if he had tracked it through the fancy house or not. He wondered if someone else would have had to come in and clean up after him. Sumo calmed down as soon as he was comfortably settled against Connor’s body, shaggy tail swinging back and forth. The little girl had wide brown eyes, looking like this is the first time she had ever seen a good dog, the same as Connor had looked that first day, when he woke up with the animal laying on his chest.

“You’re early.” Connor said, fingers slowly working into the fur behind Sumo’s ear. “You said you would be here around noon, so given your usual punctuality I thought you would show up around three or four.”

“Sumo was driving me crazy. Ever since you left he’s been as dramatic as a teenage girl.” Hank said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Sumo had lain down, pushing Connor back flatter. His mouth hung open and panted happily. Hank looked around for the first time, taking in the green house, well tended to and full of green, healthy plants. The man standing by Connor, a few steps back, hands slightly raised, looked like he belonged here. Both as a fixture of the greenhouse and of a home for the frightened and newly free. Ugly and dark scars curved around the left side of his face.

“So it was Sumo’s idea to show up early.” Connor said. With great effort the kid managed to push himself free and stand steady on his feet. “And he somehow managed to get you out of bed, showered, and into the car before eleven in the morning.”

“He had a very convincing argument.” Hank said.

Connor shifted on his feet, eyes moving away from Hank towards Kara. There was an awkward silence that stretched through the room and the woman cleared her throat.

“Ralph, Alice, why don’t we take the dog outside to run and play.” Kara said, waving the two of them towards the door and they scurried along. Sumo perked up, seeing the little girl and his attention going to the quick feet and he followed to look for attention. “Let us know if the two of you need anything. We will be right outside.”

Hank nodded. It was a warning. Hank was in their territory and so he couldn’t do anything to one of their own. It was reassurance, to Connor. The door closed and the image of her through the glass disappeared and behind the rows of plants. Hank didn’t turn back to Connor yet, he wanted to take a moment to admire the deep, healthy green of the ferns.

“It’s good to see you, Hank. You’re looking well.” Connor said. Hank turned to look at him and saw how straight he stood, head held tilted upwards. “I want to apologize for… getting so emotional that night. I said things for the soul purpose of hurting you. I was ungrateful.”

“No Connor, that’s enough.” Hank said, holding his hand out and waving away the awful feelings they were dragging up. “I should apologize. Not you. I was the one screwing up and I was the one who kept doing stupid and confusing things. You have experience, you would naturally expect the worst from me, especially considering the way we met. I bought you at a fucking sex club for Chris’s sake.”

Connor looked up at him, reaching up at tug the glove off with his teeth and then pulling the quarter out of his pocket. The glove dropped to the ground. “That’s fair.” He said. His voice was slow, his words coming out soft and thoughtful. “I am still sorry. I said things just because I wanted to hurt you. It wasn’t hard to figure out that you had lost someone. I shouldn’t have used it against you.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you. I should have had more control than that. What happened with my son was something I haven’t even started to process.” Hank said, too deep into his own guilt to want to see Connor suffer through his. “We both fucked up. We both feel bad. We can both move forward after this.

Connor nodded, smiling softly as he bent down to pick up his fallen glove. Hank wanted to ask about the gardening, about the greenhouse, about man with the scars and the little girl who held his hand. He wanted to ask about Kara, and this big house on the wealthy part of town. Hank said absolutely nothing. He watched as Connor put away the watering can and his gloves. They were clean, the only dirt they had touched was when Connor had dropped it to the ground.

“It’s a nice house.” Hank said.

“This is Markus’s house. North said she didn’t want to send me to a shelter.” Connor said. He closed the supply closet and turned to look at Hank again. There was a bench towards one of the walls, near a small row of yellow flowers. Connor walked towards it first and Hank only waited a moment before following. “He got it from the man who owned him, who donated it to Jericho.”

“I guess the appropriate response to finding out you had a slave is to give them your entire house.” Hank said.

“Mr. Manfred didn’t know he was a slave, his son handled the finances, but Mr. Manfred kept a close eye on the books. He gave the money for the caretaker to a man who could get him drugs and a cheap person to fill the role. Markus says this is all public knowledge and he likes sharing his story. I read it on Google.” Connor spoke quickly. He was talking for the sake of talking and Hank sat perfectly still. He would hear whatever Connor wanted to tell him. Even if the kid wanted to recite the dictionary.

“I’m glad to hear it had a happy ending.” Hank said when there was a pause in Connor’s rambling.

Connor nodded. “He’s very happy now. He’s helping people and he’s free.” The coin flipped through his fingers smoothly. “Isn’t it funny? He didn’t know Markus was a slave. Markus took care of him every day and he had no idea that Markus didn’t really have a way out. And people who saw Simon, locked in that house, didn’t know he was a slave. And Josh.”

“It’s technically illegal. It’s one of the laws they teach us at cop school. Most people don’t see someone and assume they were a slave.” Hank said.

Connor sat down. He was rolling the coin between his fingers. Connor looked down, his free hand sliding up the sleeve of his shirt just a tiny bit. Hank saw the scars, the healing cigarette burns. He had been there for those, had walked in on him frantically trying to wash them away.

“The people who came to the club didn’t think I was a real person. They had to know.” Connor said, his thumb pressed into one of the circular scars as if it were a button. “I wasn’t real. I wasn’t alive.”

“You are alive.”

“Am I?” Connor spoke fast, the quarter rolling fell off of his knuckles and his thumb pressed firmly into his scarred skin. He was staring down at his hands and Hank wanted to reach out and hold them. “How could they do that then? Why would she do that to me?”

Hank didn’t have an answer. Sometimes people were just bad. Sometimes they looked at someone and saw revenue, saw something to batter and control, and not a living person. He wanted to reach out and hold the kid and promise he wouldn’t get hurt again and he didn’t have to be afraid. Hank didn’t move and he couldn’t promise Connor something they didn’t have any control over.

“I didn’t feel a damn thing back then. I was fine with how I existed, with what I was. I just feel so much, Hank. I could have died there and I would have just been upset that I disappointed her.” Connor said. He was crying again, but reached up and wiped the tears away before they could fall too far.

“The type of people who go to that club, looking for that type business, have a habit of not caring if someone is a person or not.” Hank said.

He remembered that night, the blood swirling the sink, Connor trying desperately to wash the marks away and stamp down whatever overwhelming shreds of emotion and humanity had been dragged up. A dozen burn, thirteen to be exact. Connor was sold by the hour, thirteen cigarettes in sixty minutes. Hank knew it was hard to smoke a cigarette every five minutes unless they were lit for that single moment of putting them out.

“What did you think I was? When you saw me in there. What was I?” Connor asked. He turned to Hank, eyebrows drawn together.

“What were you? Fuck Connor, what kind of answer are you looking for?” Hank said. Connor’s thoughts felt scattered. Hank wanted to keep up, but he had a lifetime of experience coping poorly with his emotions and Connor was letting himself feel for the first time. “You were a shit dancer on a stage and you shouldn’t have been there. You were a kid who didn’t know what he was doing.”

“I was bad at it?” Connor asked, his eyes widened in surprise. “I had been doing that my whole life, I thought I had a rhythm down.”

“It was like a fish out of water, just flopping about. I feel like the reason I didn’t throw up was because I was too drunk to fully realize you were trying to be sexy.” Hank said, shrugging his shoulders. He had known Connor was there or a reason, Hank knew what the case was, but he had never let himself look at him on that stage and think of anything close to ‘sexy’.

“I was bad at it. Amanda said I was worthless at my one job. I feel like I wasn’t meant to do that. I was meant to do something else. Not that. I was never going to be good at it and I was getting too old for it to be endearing. They were going to kill me and in the end I would likely have thought it was my fault.”

“That’s fucked up.” Hank said.

“It really is. I just never realized that before. Why would they do that to me?” Connor said.

“Not everyone is a good person. Most of us try to be but it doesn’t guarantee a damn thing. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that the people who did this were bad people. None of that shit was your fault and nothing you could have done would ever mean you deserved that.”

Connor huffed and nodded, reaching down to pick up his quarter from off the ground. “Okay.” He said softly. He nodded again, flicking the coin into the air. “I don’t like that you shoved me. Violence is unacceptable. It will not happen again.”

Hank had interrogated what felt like a few hundred suspects in his day. He knew when someone said something that was rehearsed. It would be flat, the words smooth and perfect with hardly any stumbling at all. Connor had practiced this, likely with help.

“I don’t want to do it again. I’m trying to go back to those AA meetings. Actually participate maybe.” Hank said. “And I’m assuming that if I fuck up like that again that North will kill me.”

Connor smiled, his nose wrinkling slightly. “She already promised me she would.”

“Good. She’s going to protect you. This place seem nice. You’re already making friends.” Hank said.

“They are an interesting group of people. Full of personality. I’m learning a lot.” Connor said.

“The next time I visit should be a lot more fun then.” Hank said.

Connor smiled at him. “I’m glad we could talk Hank. I have been feelings so much and it all feels so irrational. Talking helps me understand.” Connor said. He caught the coin in his hand and tucked into his pocket. “I don’t think I want to come back to the house anytime soon. North says it might e best to stay here.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“She thinks it would be best for me to be here where I can feel safer and focus more energy on recovery.” Connor said, more smooth and recited words. “But you have to bring Sumo again soon. I have hardly gotten to see him today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come, don't worry. There is a short period of growth before the next bit of drama


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the patience. I've been getting a lot of work done on the commissions I took a few weeks ago and so I decided to post another chapter. A lot happens in this one. A lot.

Connor had his first panic attack in the bathroom at three in the morning. Hank wasn’t there, he didn’t find out until he woke up at ten and saw the series of frantic voicemails from Connor late into the night, and a few reassuring messages from North and Markus not long after that.

Connor sent him a text, asking if Hank could bring Sumo around four that afternoon, at eight. In the five hours since the incident started it had been resolved and Connor had asked for a visit at a specific time, all while Hank slept in his bed.

Guilt was a constant presence in his chest these days, taking up the place where he had previously drowned with the numbing presence of alcohol. How long had it been since his last drink, a week? Maybe two? Hank didn’t want to dwell on it, he had the notes taped to his bathroom mirror to remind him of Cole and Connor and why he had to do this. This was another reason.

Hank was a good detective, but he didn’t need decades of experience to piece together what had happened from the lost and frightened voicemails. Connor had a nightmare, he had walked to the bathroom, was startled by something, and panicked. He had called Hank, saying he had to go back. He was sorry but Amanda might forgive him. Amanda would take him back. Amanda wouldn’t be disappointed anymore, she wanted him to come back. Connor had begged into the phone to go back home until someone else in the house was able to talk him out of the bathroom.

He had almost piled into the car and drove straight there, but he stared at the final message. A request, bring Sumo at four pm. One of the messages from North had said they had calmed him down and he wasn’t hurt. She sounded tired, but calm. Hank wasn’t needed at that house right now. Hank kept his eyes open as he looked at the post-it-notes around his bathroom mirror.

‘I’m not grumpy’ One read.

‘Clean out Cole’s room, it’s time for him to rest’ Another said. That one hurt to write, but he had gone to those stupid AA meetings and they said it was easier to do something if you write down your reason.

‘Connor should feel safe’. This message was stuck to the middle of the mirror. He had written it a dozen times, trying to find the exact right way to put all of his guilt into the phrase. If Hank had a note like this, perhaps he wouldn’t have been so abrupt in stealing that kid, dragging him out into the alleyway. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been so vague whenever Connor asked why he was there He wouldn’t have shoved Connor to the ground for questioning why.

Connor should feel safe, Hank storming over there after he asked for him to come at a specific time would not help. Hank should go to work. Hank should stay away when Connor asked him to.

He got to work, focusing on whatever was in front of his face to keep his head off of things. He wanted to stay calm. Sumo laid on the couch, something Hank would never be able to train out of him, and made a soft whine. Hank let him outside and filled up his food and water bowl, making sure the dog had everything he needed before Hank left for today.

“Be good and we’ll go see Connor.” Hank said. Immediate change, whines replaced by excited panting and tail wagging and a bark of betrayal when Hank walked out the door without him.

The heater in his car rattled and, on the drive to work, Hank kept pressing his hands against the vents to warm up. The roads were always slick, that sweet spot of November where the clouds didn’t know if it was time for more snow or time for rain, ice froze and melted again every other day. Hank may not be drinking anymore, but he still ended up late to work.

The office seemed busier than usual, people coming and going out of the front doors in whispered phone conversations. He walked through the door and made eye contact with the receptionist and his stomach sank. It looked like it would be a long day. The precinct was crawling with Feds, some in Fowlers office, some going back and forth to the evidence room, circling a few desks.

“Why the long face?” Reed said, walking up to him with a steaming cup of coffee and a huge grin spread across his face.

“Why the FBI?” Hank said, getting his own cup.

“Because I’m working with the FBI, dipshit. We arrested Kamski last night.” Reed’s grin widened, his nose crinkling a bit in excitement and only seemed to enjoy it more at the sight of Hank’s surprise.

“Elijah Kamski? How the fuck did you manage to get that?” Hank asked. He looked back at the federal agents wandering around, no longer seeming like an invasion but instead like reinforcements.

“Tax fraud if you can believe it. He’s being charged, but maybe we can get him to take a plea deal for info on Amanda. The FBI wanted to make the arrest and I didn’t have enough on my case to get them to back off until I track her down.” Reed said, shrugging his shoulders as he followed Hank back to his desk. “But I still got a pretty nice pat on the back for my hard work.”

“No leads on her yet?”

“We have one, but you passed him off onto a local human rights organization that says ‘repeated police interrogations will just cause more emotional stress on an already at risk individual’.” Gavin said, holding up his free hand to make air quotes. “But we got Kamski all over the clubs, paperwork, bank statements, and the Feds already raided his property. We can put Kamski away for a long time. Too bad he’s only involved with the money. Any records of how the place is actually ran and about half of the personnel at those places are gone.”

“She knew you were coming?” Hank asked.

Reed leaned back, resting his weight on Hank’s desk and took a long chug of his coffee. “Yeah, so she disappeared. I’m willing to bet she’s in charge, but she’s making it hard to track her down. Must be her plan, let Kamski take the fall and she can just take her business somewhere else to a different investor.”

“Kamski won’t talk.” Hank said, shaking his head. This case had been going on for months, there were a thousand pieces of evidence that Hank didn’t know, plot lines that he had no idea about, but he knew Kamski would never get convicted for most of the shit that went on there. He owned the building, he could claim that was all. “He’s not going to confess to something like fucking child sex trafficking because you got proof he rented his property to shady businesses. You need something you can threaten him with.”

“He’s richer than God, what could you threaten him with to get him to sell out Amanda?” Reed said, face pinched to one side.

“You know as well as I do that a lot of people there were underage. Kamski owned a lot of these places, right? I know someone who said the owner of her club came by a lot when she was a kid.” Hank said. He was reaching, grasping at ideas. Connor couldn’t handle another interrogation, his emotions were hanging on a wire. “I’m sure prison time for sex crimes will scare the shit out of some rich guy. Enough to sell out the person who put the kids on the silver platter.”

Reed pushed off of Hank’s desk and tossed his empty cup into the trash. “Are you serious?” Reed asked.

  
Hank was on the outside of things. Lurking on the outside of Reed’s case, on the outside of Connor’s new life, away from everything and everyone. He didn’t have all the details, but he knew North had a history in these clubs, had mentioned the owner, a man who had impregnated her when she was young. He knew a few details about Connor’s panic attack from a few frantic voicemails and a few reassuring text messages. Connor wasn’t fit to give anymore testimonies to police. North might be but only if Hank was right in bridging the wide gaps of information he had.

“Yeah, she’s an adult now so I’m not sure if we can get him on pedophilia charges, but maybe more victims will come forward. At the very least it ties him to the actual sex slave business, not just owning a strip club and tax evasion.” Hank said.

“Who is it? I’ll get her in here.” Reed said.

“I’m going to see Connor later today, in the meantime I can talk to her about it, see if she is willing to cooperate. She hates that man’s guts so hopefully she’ll be willing to talk to you. No promises though.” Hank said. He turned to his terminal and waved Reed away in a shooing motion.

Reed kept trying to ask more, trying to dig up more information but Hank was a far better detective than he was. Reed’s interrogating skills still needed work if he wanted to get anything else from Hank. He needed time away from him, time away from all the stress of building situations. He had a flask in the bottom drawer of his desk, locked and untouched. Hank knew it was there, but he also knew Connor was in a mansion that served as a halfway house and had processed his situation enough to have a panic attack. Hank thought about the flask, but didn’t even look at the drawer it was in. He had a case, he had a new crime scene, he could get away.

Hank focused on work instead. A man murdered in his home, stabbed twenty eight times in the chest. A good distraction. Carlos Ortiz, a drug addict, record for robbery and assault charges, and had been dead for a while by the looks of it, slumped against the wall and a message written in blood above his head.

‘I AM ALIVE’

Hank huffed out a chuckle as he looked over the area. It was ironic, those words written above the victim’s head. It had to mean something more, because at this point all it seemed to be was a lie written in blood above a dead body.

It was nice to be on a normal case again. Dead victim, didn’t seem like anything that would weigh on his conscience too much. He didn’t have to worry about saving people. Hank was fine with these kinds of cases an today it was a welcomed distraction. Not one that lasted long.

Ortiz was killed by his roommate, a man who looked like he had been beaten for a long time. He had killed himself in the attic some time ago. Left a note carved into the walls, begging to be saved.

Hank thought back on the flask in his desk and then back at the two bodies in a drug den of a filthy, dying city. He had seen worse cases than this. Once they had the evidence documented and the timeline sorted out, Hank called it a day.

He had to be somewhere that afternoon. Connor had asked for him, had asked for time to sort out his thoughts, and Hank was going to be there when he asked. He got home and Sumo was on his feet instantly. He barked, circling Hank’s feet and trying to coral him towards the door.

“Not yet, Sumo. Down!” Hank said, trying to stop the dog from tackling him to the ground.

He managed to get Sumo into the backyard and then he went for a shower, washing the day away and getting clear of any dirt or grime. He stayed in the shower, water as hot as he could handle until it all ran out. He turned it off before it got too cold.

He put on a clean shirt and checked his phone. He was late, but not by much. It as a long drive to the rich part of town and Hank could probably get away with blaming traffic. All Hank had to do was mention the words ‘car’ and ‘Connor’ and Sumo made a beeline from the backdoor through the house, out the front, and into the backseat of his car. It was the easiest Hank had ever gotten that dog to do anything.

“Now, be a good boy today.” Hank said as he finally pulled out of the driveway. “Connor has had a rough day. He’s been under a lot of stress. Just lay on him or something, he’ll love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of an abrupt beginning and an abrupt end, but Hank is sorta like an outside observer in a lot of different stories going on, not fully part of any of them but also deeply involved at the same time.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still working on the commissions so I havent been able to work on this much but here is a chapter to hold you over. its full of good things.

“Thank you for coming.” North said as she opened the door.

Sumo barked, pushing past her and darting up the stairs. Hank didn’t know if Connor had a specific scent that the dog could follow or if it was a sixth sense that lead the way to the kid. Hank stepped into the house and gave it a good long look over. It felt bright, all the light streaming in through the windows made the colors of the paintings on the wall and the in the deep, rich stain on the fancy wood of the floors. It felt open.

“Connor’s upstairs in his room. Do you mind if I talk to you for a bit first?” North said. She didn’t wait for an answer, instead she started walking deeper into the house and it was up to Hank to follow. “Connor still thinks very highly of you. He told me what happened, and I know he would never bring it up himself, but you scared him. I need to make sure you understand that.”

“I understand.” Hank said.

North nodded. “When I picked him up from the shelter after he ran off, he was freezing, dazed and confused and frightened. He said he should go back, that he shouldn’t have antagonized you. Connor wanted me to bring him back to your house.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I miss the kid, I want him to feel safe if he comes home, but I’m man enough to admit I fucked up bad.” Hank said. He wasn’t ready yet, neither of them were.

North nodded as they walked into the kitchen. A kettle was steaming next on the stove top and North began preparing two cups. “I’m telling you this because Connor said I could tell you anything I needed to. This morning was scary. He won’t tell me what exactly happened but Ralph found him like that. Ralph got Kara and Kara got me.”

“Do you all live here?” Hank asked, already regretting his interruption.

“It’s Markus’s house.” North said and then continued on. “He said he should go back. He was better off at that club, that he couldn’t handle things out here. He clung to me, begging me to take him to Amanda, and told me he couldn’t handle being alive anymore. He didn’t want to feel so much anymore.”

The words were heavy, weighing Hank down and curling into his skin. “Fuck.” He said. He reached up, brushing his hands through his hair to get it out of his face.

“He’s calmed down now, I just don’t want you to get him worked up again. The situations aren’t the same, but the fight between you two is still too recent for me to be comfortable. He wants you here, if not for that then I wouldn’t let you come by today.” She said.

Hank nodded. “This is a goddamn bitch of a situation, but I understand where you’re coming from. I’ll try to put of a friendly and safe demeanor. Like a teddy bear.” It was a joke, North smiled and she seemed to relax at Hank’s words.

He was pissed off, but not at her. Hank looked at North and remembered that night they passed a bottle back and forth on the floor of Cole’s room. They had an understanding between them and a common goal, keep Connor safe and help him heal. In the long run, this is probably a sign of progress. Connor went from quiet, blank, and empty, and was now a person who somewhat understood what the world was like compared to what his entire life had been. He was bursting with new emotions he couldn't control or completely comprehend and a boat load of trauma digging it’s way through his head.

North passed him a cup of tea, the bag still sitting in the small mug. Hank didn’t drink tea, but he wrapped his hands around the warm cup anyway.

“Thank you for looking out for him.” Hank said. He drank from his cup and wrinkled his nose. He wasn’t a tea type of person and he knew he never would be. Too bland and bitter at the same time. “Despite being a bitter drunk, I do want that kid to be in a safe place. I’m glad he found it here.”

North smiled. She held her mug to her lips and looked down at it. For once she didn’t seem so high strung, so defensive. This was her home it seemed, she wasn’t on guard here and Hank felt a bit of guilt weighing him down lighten only a bit because his presence didn’t change the peace she had here.

He hated that he had to break it, he wouldn’t even know how much pain he could cause her by this question but he had to say it anyway. Connor deserved to heal outside of this fucking case.

“Kamski was arrested last night.” Hank said. He saw the shift of her body language. She tensed, standing stiff and kept her eyes open as she took a slow sip.

“I saw that on the news.” She said. Nothing more.

“They’re going to get him for tax evasion, he’ll do a few years in minimum security prison, playing tennis with Wallstreet bankers.” Hank said, his tone flat and steady, watching North for any sign that he crosses the line.

“That’s justice, isn’t it?” She said. She put her cup down. “I know what you want to ask so just say it.”

Hank took a deep breath. “Is he the one who-“

“Yes.” North looked up at him, nodding her head. She cut him off, forcing the answer out of herself, sharing another secret with him in unfortunate circumstances. “He owned me, he fucked me and fathered my boys. He’s the reason they got taken from me. Elijah Kamski owned the club I was in, he liked me, he raped me, and if you want me to saw that to a lawyer and jury then I will.”

“Oh.” Hank said.

“I never forgot about him, trust me.” North said.

“I bet. I just didn’t expect it to be this easy.” He said, shrugging and taking another sip of tea. He still hated it. “This is big, what you gotta do.”

“I’m almost thirty seven years old. Over twenty years and every day I have to think about what he did and what I lost.” North said. She braced her hands against the counter. “I will talk to whoever I have to if it means he rots in prison.”

“Thank you.” Hank said.

This felt good. Finally something went right, someone as on his side and was ready to face it. He wanted to reach out and hug North, he wanted to take a long moment to breathe and feel good about this one win. This one time things went right for him.

“Okay, now go upstairs and see Connor. He got all ready for your visit.” She said.

Hank nodded. He decided not to question North’s need to send him away, to end the conversation. Connor was upstairs, dealing with a lifetime of trauma for the first time. He at least needed to make sure Sumo didn’t smother the kid. He walked out of the kitchen and kept his eyes forward, not even looking back to say goodbye to North, giving her privacy as soon as he could.

The mansion was stunning. The architecture seemed odd and confusing in a way that Hank assumed meant expensive. Only rich people had fancy stairs and wall patterns and hard wood floors. It was one of those large houses that echoed, that made sounds vibrate all throughout the rooms and hallways. Hank didn’t know where Connor’s room was, but he heard someone laughing down one hallway, shrill and excited, and assumed they were laughing at Sumo.

Hank followed the sound to an open door tucked close to the end of the hall near a large set of windows. Sumo was laid out across the bed, nestled on Connor’s chest and nose following the little girl. Alice was hopping all across the bed, laughing as Sumo went sniffing and licking after her while staying firmly planted on Connor’s chest and holding the kid down.

Connor was smiling. He looked relaxed in a soft lavender hoodie with flowers and a pair of black sweatpants. The sweater must be soft, Connor was very particular about wearing soft and ugly clothes. The girl let out another excited burst of laughter. Sumo had given her a slobbery lick as she scurried around an tried to dodge him. Connor laughed and pulled his hands up to cover his face as Sumo turned the drooling kisses to him.

“Hank!” Connor said, surprised and delighted. “Help.”

“Save us!” Alice shouted, laughing as Sumo barked and rolled towards her happily.

Sumo was good with kids. He licked and barked and played, but never bit or growled. He was a good boy and Hank was happy to see them all having a good time. Nothing could possibly be wrong with their lives if these three were happy and safe.

“She’s been hanging out with him all day. She was very excited to hear that you were bringing the dog today.” Kara said, walking down the hall towards him, smiling wide at a new wave of laughter coming from the room. “Connor has told her so much about that dog, she’s been begging me to get her one just like him.”

“It’s good to know Connor is making friends here.” Hank said.

“Alice and Ralph like him. The moment North brought him home they have been following him around like secret service agents. I think it’s a game and Connor certainly doesn’t seem to mind.” She said.

Hank smiled. “Kara, Ralph, and Alice. How many people live here? I get that it’s a mansion, so there’s probably room for all of you, but I gotta be curious.”

“There’s quite a few people who live here. Markus, North, and Carl. My husband, Luther, and Alice is our little girl. Ralph is part of the family too. We help take care of Carl and the house while they’re busy with Jericho. Then there’s always people passing through, people who need a special place to hide for a while.” Kara said. She looked back into the room. The excitement had settled down. Sumo had his head relaxing on Connor’s chest, Alice grinning from ear to ear as her small hands disappeared into Sumo’s thick fur. “Ralph is hiding. You scare him.”

That last sentence surprised him, but he tried not to look startled. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll be sure to give him space if he needs it.”

Kara hummed and nodded. “That’s probably for the best. Sometimes he can’t control his fear well.” She said. She nodded her head a bit in the direction of the room, at the kids on the bed petting a happy dog. “Connor seems to be more confused by his fear. He’s learning to live with it, but it catches him by surprise. But everyone is safe here.”

Kara looked calm and patient as she smiled at the two of them, but Hank saw the stiffness in her body, how tightly her arms were wrapped in front of her chest. He felt like he was getting the shovel talk, threatened by a small, scrawny girl. He had been surprised by appearances before and there was something subtle about her threats that made him intimidated.

“Everyone will stay safe, you don’t have to worry about me.” Hank said. He hoped he was reassuring. He wasn’t entirely positive himself if hew as all that safe.

“I guess we’ll see.” Kara said, shrugging her shoulders. “Alice, come on let’s go see what everyone wants for dinner.”

Hank was left standing in the hallway, thinking about whatever the hell Kara was trying to tell him. She seemed protective of her family and if they were all part of Jericho then she had good reason to be. Perhaps she just wanted Hank to know that she was protecting Connor now too.

“Thank you for bringing him.” Connor called out to him. He was still laying on the bed, Sumo laying on top of him and licking at his chest and neck lazily.

There were two beds in the room. One was a mess, sloppy and the sheet popping off on one end. The other was made neatly, wrinkled only by the man and the saint bernard laying on top of the blankets. There were baskets of random knickknacks and a shelf of shelf full of house plants on one side of the room. The other side, the side Connor’s bed was on, was mostly bare. Not a poster on the wall or a single thing on his shelf seemed out of place. Everything was neat, had no personality, empty.

“Of course. Sumo has been whining all day without you at the house. If I didn’t bring him to visit then I might lose my mind.” Hank said with a shrug.

Connor at least smiled at him. He looked tired, paler than usual, but relaxed. He looked like he was sleeping mostly, was being well fed, was safe. Hank knew all these things, he had seen Connor a few times since he had come here.

“Thank you for coming.” Connor said.

Hank sat down on a nearby chair and let out a loud yawn. The day was exhausting, he felt heavy and his body curled forward slightly. “You asked me to. Of course I came.”

Connor hummed. It was soft sound, delicate and tired and broken. When he left, Connor was just starting to open himself up to how he felt. Allowing himself for the first time to think about what he felt about what had happened to him. Hank wanted to ask, but he also wanted to wait until Connor was ready to talk.

“Do you share this room?” Hank asked.

“Ralph. He likes me.” Connor said.

“So you guys are friends?” Hank said.

Connor hummed again, his eyes closed and his fingers lazily petting Sumo’s fur. “Yeah, he’s my friend. Kara was surprised that me and him got along so well so fast.” Connor said. Sumo was breathing slow, already asleep. “He has trouble remembering he’s real, doesn’t feel like he’s really him.”

“Is that how you feel?” Hank asked. He probably shouldn’t, he should let Connor relax and rest, but he wanted to know if his kid was really okay or not.

“I’m not sure how I feel Hank.” Connor said. He sounded tired. He sounded a few moments away from falling asleep as well. “I just don’t like it. I don’t understand it all. My entire life is so confusing, I remember everything and it doesn’t feel the same anymore. It doesn’t really feel like me those things were happening to.”

“Memories are tricky like that. You get a new perspective and you don’t look at things the same way.” Hank said. Connor didn’t make another sound. He was still awake, his breathing was a bit too fast for him to be asleep. “I brought you something.”

“A present?” Connor asked, eyes fluttering open quickly.

“I guess. It’s an old thing, I found it when I was going through Cole’s things.” Hank said, standing up. He unzipped his coat a bit more and rummaged for the small thing. Connor wrinkled his nose and kept his eyes zeroed in on the book he pulled from his coat, safe from the snow. “Don’t make that face. This isn’t anything like that, Cole hated this book, didn’t have enough monster trucks. I thought you might like it though.”

The Velveteen Rabbit was a cute story, one Hank remember his mom reading to him and one he had tried to share with Cole. It was a classic sort of edition. The illustrations were simple, looking rather like pastel colored scribbles. The book smelled like nothing. Everything in Cole’s room was starting to smell like nothing, now that Hank had the door open to the rest of the house, airing out the years of containment.

“You got me a book?” His face lit up. “Its such practical gift Hank, thank you. Will you read it to me?”

“You want me to read to you? It’s a kid’s book Connor, are you sure you want me to read it to you?”

“Please Hank. No one has ever done it before. It sounded so nice. Alice gets it, just this once.” Connor asked. His eyes were closed again, his hands still and holding tight to a few handfuls of dog fur.

Hank sighed, leaning back in the chair and feeling the old, stiff spine of the book shift as it was opened for the first time in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> full of good things?


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> North faces a man who has been haunting her nightmares for over 20 years

“That’s him alright. I would never forget that face, those hands, that voice.” North hissed. She kept her arms crossed, her eyes forward, watching as Reed and Perkins interrogated Kamski. They were trying to pressure him into talking, bringing in North for an added threat. Kamski was cocky enough to think his hands were clean in the business, but a victim accusing him of sexual assault was enough to scare the crap out of any monster.

Hank didn’t say a word. He just stood by her side and let her take it in. Had she dreamed of this day or had she dreaded it? Had she spent twenty years planning her victory speech or was she going to make it up on the spot? She looked focused, eyes staring daggers through the glass.

“Numbers aren’t adding up. We’ve been looking over your finances and the money isn’t where it should be.” Perkins said, tossing a file onto the table.

“That’s such an awful crime, isn’t it agent? A business that doesn’t know where its money is going.” Kamski said, raising a hand to silence the lawyer who opened his mouth. North stiffened as he spoke. “Is that what they arrested Al Capone for? Tax evasion?”

“Are you confessing to tax evasion?” Perkins asked.

Kamski smiled and shook his head. “Not at all, Agent. I’m confessing to not keeping an eye on my businesses. See, I let other people manage them. If money goes missing from the accounts, it’s due to them.” He said. He didn’t break eye contact. He didn’t seem concerned at all. “I had nothing to do with anything that went on there?”

“Is that how Amanda convinced you to put your name on the checks? She told you that none of that fucked up shit she did in your clubs to all of those people.” Reed said, standing up to let Perkins take a seat. “You weren’t there, you weren’t actually managing the place, you just owned it.”

“My client-“

“Shut up.” Kamski said to the lawyer. He sat for a few moments, silent, eyebrows drawn together at the mention of Amanda’s name. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean, Detective. Do you know something I don’t?”

“I know that if we get you for tax evasion and maybe embezzling you’ll do a year, maybe two, in a low security prison playing tennis and eating semi decent microwave burritos with all the other Wall Street criminals.” Reed said, his nose wrinkling as he scoffed. “That sounds like a vacation. But I’m thinking more along the line of a few decades in state for kidnapping and raping a whole bunch of people, including minors.”

“Those are quite bold accusations. For the sake of your jobs I hope you have something to back them up.” Kamski said.

“I want to talk to him.” North said.

Hank looked at her, and then looked at Kamski. He tried to see both of them, imagining them twenty something years ago. Kamski would have been young, more reckless, that invincible feeling that came with being in his twenties.. North would have been a child, a preteen, or a least a young teen. But Hank mostly just saw two adults, both of them so certain of themselves. Someone was going to get hurt and Hank didn’t want to North.

“You don’t have to do it. As long as he knows you’re here to talk to the police, he’ll feel the pressure.” Hank said.

“It won’t do a thing. I want him to see him. I want to him to hear what I have to say.” North said. She didn’t even glance at Hank, she stared straight through the glass at Kamski. “He will always think he’s untouchable. I want to talk to him.”

He didn’t understand why. This whole case confused the hell out of him. Almost everything Connor said or did confused him and most of that was probably due to all of the shit he had been put through. North had similar experiences and a similar life, but with a few more years of real world experience and she confused him too. He was used to murder victims, who just laid there covered in their own blood, not victims of these sorts of cases, who lived and survived after the crime was committed.

Hank knocked on the glass, four sets of eyes snapping to his direction at the sound. Reed and Perkins stood up, sharing a look as they walked out of the room. This was a bad idea, North wasn’t a lawyer or an officer, she was a victim and there was no reason to send her in there to face him.

“She wants to go in there.” Hank said as soon as Reed and Perkins came into the room.

“He raped me, he fathered my two boys, and he’s the reason they were taken away from me.” She said, repeating what she had told Hank earlier. Like a mantra, a reminder of why she was putting herself through this. “I was a child when that all happened. I want him to see my face and know I’m the one who is ruining his life.”

“He probably won’t remember you. What happened between you two was a long time ago.” Perkins said.

“I will make him remember.” North said.

Reed clapped his hands together once, breaking the tension building in the room, and grinned at everyone. “Let’s send her in there. Finally, someone willing to go on record. This is great, send her in there and I’ll get the popcorn.”

North looked at him, raising an eyebrow as she looked back at Hank. She opened her mouth to say something but instead shook her head. There were more important things on hand than just Reed being an insensitive prick.

Hank couldn’t convince her not to go in there. She was willing to testify and that would have been enough, she didn’t have to go in there and face him. But he saw the determination on her face, the steel in her eyes, the tension keeping her body still and upright. She walked through the door and Hank didn’t stop her.

He leaned against the desk, Reed sitting back with him as Perkins followed into North into the interrogation room. Neither of them said a word, not a joke or complaint now that she was finally in there, face to face, walking through the door and looking at that man she said she never could forget.

“I suppose it’s time for me to face my accuser.” Kamski said.

Perkins took a seat at the table, North stood at the door for a moment. Hank felt another bout of guilt and shame. This moment suddenly felt extremely personal and not something he had any right to watch. North let out a breath and walked up to the table, taking her seat next to Perkins.

“My name is North. I’m not accusing you of anything, I’m just telling the world what you did to me.” She said.

Hank wondered if the lawyer was new or if this was just the dynamic he and Kamski had, because the moment the man opened his mouth Kamski cut him off again. “Do you mind enlightening me on what I supposedly did to you?”

North smiled, the edges of her mouth curling up as he brushed her bangs behind her ear. “I was a child when your people took me. Its hard to remember, but I think I was twelve at the time. You saw me when they brought me back to your club. You said I was so pretty that you wanted to be the first. And then you and me became a regular thing. I saw the usual clients, but for most of the whores they all had a price. We all had a worth, people could do whatever they wanted if they paid the right price. Except for the people you liked. All the special stuff you reserved for only yourself. I don’t know if that was better or worse, knowing that I was used again and again and yet you still wanted to look me in the eye and use me, bare, violating me in any way you pleased. You know what you did to me, you may not be able to remember me exactly, because who knows how many of those special girls you saved for yourself, but I remember you.”

North paused for a moment, breathing heavy and eyes wide. She somehow looked like she might jump across the table and strangle him or fall to the ground and burst into tears with just that single look on her face. Kamski leaned forward and North raised a hand quickly.

“I’m not finished, Eli.” She said. She took another moment to catch her breath. “I was a child, every day I woke up afraid of who would pay to spend an hour or two in that room with me. And then I had to be afraid that you wouldn’t think I was special anymore, because as long as I was you special girl you were the only one to fuck me without a condom, to spill yourself in me. You thought my value with that was too high, you wanted it for yourself, and so I would wonder if you stopped liking me if every other man would be allowed to do it too. And it went on like that, for years.”

“I think that’s enough of that nonsense.” Kamski said, raising a hand with a slow waving motion. He looked over to his lawyer. “Well, go on. I’m paying you.”

“Of course, Mr. Kamski.” The lawyer said, leaning forward in his seat. “North, may I ask how you got involved with this case?”

“I work for Jericho. I learned of the case through Jericho’s… partnership with the police. Human trafficking has become a big issue in Detroit, in case you haven’t heard.” North said.

“Of course. And there have been many businesses and organizations exposed in doing that, not just ones owned by my client.” The man said, his voice calm and slow. Hank hated lawyers. “You seem to be an adult, if the time of the assault happened at age twelve, are we certain that my client had owned the property at that time, or that he was even in Detroit.”

“Elijah came to Detroit and started buying property when he was eighteen. When I was twelve. And I remember his face, I remember his voice, his touch, smell, the sound of the dirty words he used to whisper in my ear.” North said, her nose wrinkling.

“And is there any evidence other than your decades old memory to put the two of you in the same room before today? Any evidence at all that anything you have told us today is true?” The man said. He seemed so sure of himself, so easy with his answers. “Is there any evidence at all that you were in a club that my client owned, or even that anything you said was true at all, besides your word?”

“What about a child?” North said quickly

The activity in the room halted, three men turning to look at North. Hank and Gavin were silent on the other side of the glass, watching her try desperately to face the man who had ruined her in so many ways. He didn’t know how to help her, or help this case, or help Connor and everyone else this asshole hurt.

“Don’t you ever call me a liar.” North said firmly. She slowly got to her feet and braced her hands on the table. “He got me pregnant. How’s that for evidence, there’s someone out there with both of our DNA running through his veins. Anyone can do that math, set up a timeline, and see why I was maybe thirteen or fourteen when I became a mother and you became the father at about twenty two? Hard to pretend you didn’t know about what was going on in your business when you were an active participant.”

“I think I’m done with this attack on my character. Especially not from some woman you guys picked up off of the street.” Kamski said as he stood up.

Hank felt a rush of energy. They didn’t have a case. Kamski would get away with it. They had nothing on him that would stick, just a business under someone else’s management and the claims he knew nothing about it. Kamski was wealthy and cocky and he and his lawyer could just walk right out of hree at the end of it all.

“Please tell me your kid exists and has Kamski’s DNA in their veins.” Gavin said as soon as she and Perkins rejoined them in the other room. “Because that would be awesome. Any jury can do basic math. If you got some adult kid together, and DNA doesn’t lie, then we could have an adult who impregnated a child. That would be awesome. Well, not for you, but for the case.”

“Reed, shut up.” Hank said, rolling his eyes.

“I really did have children with him. I was very young, but I will never forget my boys.” North said. Perkins and Gavin stepped forward, but Hank stayed back. He knew her story, he knew how much pain it gave her. He didn’t think this would end well. “The catch is that they were taken from me not long after they were born. The very same day actually. I’m mostly certain at least one of them is still alive.”

“One of them?” Perkins asked.

“Twins. My first boy was very sick, very small, could hardly manage to breath at all. My second boy was perfect in every way. Pink skin, strong lungs, they snatched him away as soon as they cut the chord.” She said. “They might be dead, they might be with Jericho, they might be anywere.”

“So… you just told Elijah Kamski and his lawyer that we had DNA evidence of him raping you as a child, when we really don’t.” Perkins said.

Gavin grinned, looking at each of them and shrugging his shoulders. “So, I guess we better find those boys then. They’re our best shot.” Reed said. “DNA test all of Jericho? Sounds expensive and exhausting, but doable. Compare it to North’s, see if we can find her family.”

“Jericho prefers to do things in house. We trust our people. No offense, but no one will consent to DNA tests if you guys are doing them.” She said. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back. “Our goal is to help people thrive now that their free, many of them choose to work a large variety of jobs, using their skills to contribute to Jericho. We don’t have a DNA technician yet.”

“It’s probably better if this is handled by an actually, pofessional group of scientists and the police departent, instead of former slaves who had never had a real job before.” Gavin said. North wrinkled her nose, her eyes narrowing as she looked over to him.

“I’m asking for an unpaid internship, for one of my clients. Jericho is an organization that helps specific people, a lot of times they’re skittish, afraid of outsiders. It might be easier to do the testing if there’s one of our own working with them.” North said, a plan processing through her head and moving from her lips. “He doesn’t have to be exposed to any classified evidence, just help with gathering samples, learn about the labs?”

“You’re talking about Connor?” Hank said. Gavin raised an eyebrow and Hank simply shrugged. “The kid likes DNA. You should see all the books on it he gets from the library.”

“Yes, I’m talking about Connor. He’s involved in the case already, he’s intelligent and works fast, and people at Jericho will recognize and trust him. Besides, he needs a hobby. Something he’s excited about.”

Hank smiled, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. He didn’t want Connor any more involved in this case than he had to be. He didn’t want him being tormented by memories. But Connor was lost. He didn’t know who he was or how to be free, and maybe ‘interning’ in a DNA lab to try and find the living blood evidence of Kamski’s assaults on North when she was a child.

“You don’t need to explain it to me, I just hope it’ll help him as much as you want it to help you.” Hank said. It wasn’t set in stone. Connor was a civilian with almost no identification. They would need approval, both to get DNA samples from any willing Jericho members, as well as to let Connor assist in the lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are entering another line in the story, but I would love to hear your theories or ideas of what might be coming. I'm sure most of you have figured it out already."


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This i a long chapter but a lot of talking and a lot of emotions. and reveals

Connor was a civilian with no identification, no birth records or even a social security number.  There here a few dozen loopholes to dig up and hoops to jump through to get the correct approval to Connor to intern in the forensics lab.  Connor had to interview for it, he had to get fingerprinted and take a series of tests. Markus had to go to a meeting, insisting that Jericho was mostly self-sufficient.  Jericho always relied on its own people, ever since the issue of modern slavery was swept under the rug as the industry thrived in this city. Hank could understand why they were such suspicious people, they had their basic rights stripped away in a business that made an incredible profit for over twenty years.  But this job would take a lot of manpower and a lot of trust in whoever came around Jericho to ask people for their DNA. Connor was a good fit.

 

Hank was happy for the kid.  It was a shitty situation, but Connor was getting his dream job.  All that built up knowledge about DNA and forensic science from all those book he read and the brain that could memorize the most complex bits of information.  Connor was grinning ear from ear when they told him. Hank felt a warm bit of satisfaction when North told him he would be paid for his time.

 

“I will be given money?”  He asked, nose wrinkling slightly as he thought.

 

“Of course, Jericho doesn’t believe in free labor.”  North said. She smiled and wrinkled her nose. “You’ll be paid the equivalent to minimum wage, part time.  Simon was able to get a work permit for you and a sort of temporary ID. But since you haven’t had any money or bills before, I want you to take a workshop on handling finances.  Until you pass the course, 20% of your paycheck will go to a savings account that only you will have access to, but only after you pass.”

 

Hank had a lot of respect for North.  She was still working. This was probably incredibly emotionally draining for her, several decades of abuse she had to relive in front of lawyers and investigators today.  She had mentioned to Hank a few weeks back in Cole’s bedroom of how afraid she was of finding her boys and seeing them as strangers. She had looked Kamski in the eye and demanded his attention.  And then she still came to work to actively try and get Connor on the path of healing. And now she was happy to deliver the news.

 

“That all sounds perfectly reasonable.”  Connor said, smiling and looking over the paperwork Captain Fowler had sent home.

 

“And Hank and I won’t be there to help you.  This is technically a job, so you’ll have new supervisors.  They’ll be strangers, but give them a chance, okay?” North said.

 

“Okay, I’ll try.  I mean, they’re the police and the police are safe.”  Connor said. He turned his smile to Hank and he just smiled in return, not having the heart to tell Connor that 90% of cops were dicks.  He would know, he worked with a lot of them.

 

“Now we should talk about what you will be doing with the DPD forensics lab.  It’s a new program that will help a lot of people in Jericho. It’s completely voluntary, but we’re going to DNA test a lot of people there, help them find their families.”  North said. She spoke about it so simply, her voice calm and steady, “But like I said, its voluntary. You don’t have to go looking for anyone if you don’t want to and you won’t find anyone who doesn’t want to be found.  You’ll be assisting them, as it’s going to be a good job.”

 

“I don’t have to do it either.”  Connor asked.

 

“Not if you don’t want to.”  North said. She leaned in, head tilted to the side.  “Do you not want to try? Who knows, maybe someone out there is trying to find you.”

 

Hank had wondered about it before.  Connor didn’t pop up out of the dirt, he had been born somehow.  Maybe one of tired women at Jericho were looking for him, or some civilian out there who had a child snatched away were waiting for him to come home, or maybe there was no one for Connor.  Sometimes that’s how the world worked.

 

“I don’t know.”  Connor said.

 

“That’s okay, kid.  You can set this boundary for yourself.”  Hank said. He didn’t know what was going on through Connor’s head, what he was afraid of finding.  Or not finding. Personally, Hank would do it, he would want to find out if he had people out there.  But maybe Connor was terrified of finding something awful or of finding no one at all. “No matter what you chose, you always got Sumo.”

 

Connor smiled, huffing out a soft laugh and leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand.  “Are you gonna do it North?”

 

“Yes.  I am. I helped organize this for a personal reason as well.”  She said. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes drifting off to the side.  “But my reasons shouldn’t influence yours. Besides, you’re working in the lab, you have time to think.”

 

“I do.”  Connor said.  

 

“Good.  Now I have a bit more business to get too, you boys enjoy your trip to the mall.”  She said. She stood up, stretching her arms above her head and arching her back until she seemed satisfied.  She yawned. Hank wondered how much sleep he had gotten since she got pulled into this case.

 

Connor stood up and smiled, seemingly unaware of the tension and exhaustion going through Hank and North today.  Everything was riding on a set of twins, or at least one of them, having found their way to Jericho and be willing to take a DNA test.

 

They had plans, the mall would be full of Christmas decorations and Hank wanted to show Connor how beautiful the lights were.  He wanted to take the kid to lunch and to pick out a few new outfits for his new job. Hank had enough money, after years of avoiding holidays, to give Connor a good first Christmas.  His first year out of that place and out in the world.

 

Connor was wearing his cat sweater and a comfortable pair of sweats.  He never matched his clothes, but he always looked comfortable in them.  His fingers always curled into soft fabrics, pulling it into a wrinkly bundle in his hands.  Hank slipped on his coat at the door, Connor doing the same.

 

“Thank you for inviting me out.  Simon says it would be good for me to spend more time out in public, away from the house and the meetings.  He and North don’t want me to become too reliant on Jericho, but promise that they will all still be here if I need anything ever.”  Connor said, staring out the window. The snow had really started to come down in the past few days, piling up on the streets and then plowed into bigger piles off to the side.  Hank took the roads slow..

 

“They want you to be independent.  You know, free.” Hank said. It was easy to wonder what was going on in that house.  They all seemed to be great people and Connor enjoyed himself and seemed to be doing a lot better, but he had to wonder if there was a curfew.  If Connor had to have the lights off and be in bed by ten or if he could chose that himself. Hank wondered if Connor could run down to the kitchen at midnight to make a toaster strudel or if that was against the rules.  Was Connor institutionalized or was he free and happy in a home taking care of him.

 

“I know.”  Connor said.  He smiled at the idea.

 

Hank focused on the road.  It couldn’t be too bad if the thought of being free made Connor smile.  It was a definite improvement to Connor begging to be sent back to that club or panicking because Hank wasn’t clear on what he wanted him to do.

  
  


The outside of the mall was already lit up with lights, practically glowing.  The parking lot lights all were hung up with lights shaped to look like candy canes, snowflakes, and even the star of David.  Reds, greens, whites, and blues everywhere they turned. Connor was glued to the window, face lit up too as he watched them all as they drove by.  It was a good thing Connor was so drawn to the lights, the parking lot was packed and they had to drive around for about fifteen minutes to find a spot towards the back.

 

“Are the lights always here or just for the holidays?”  Connor asked, hands stuffed in his pockets as they walked the way up to the front doors.

 

“Just for the holidays, but they do different decorations when other holidays come around.”  Hank said.

 

Connor smiled, his head tilting up to look at the lights as they walked through the heavily decorated front doors.  “I like them.”

 

The mall was blasting jingle bell rock and there was already a huge display in the very center of the mall for kids to line up and take pictures with Santa.  If all the lights and decorations outside had mesmerized the kid, everything inside seemed to put him in a trance. Connor’s eyes were huge, each color light reflecting off of his eyes and his hands curled tighter into the front of his shirt.  Then he looked down and the expression on his face slipped.

 

“There’s so many people here.”  Connor said.

 

“It will be until Christmas is over.  Busiest shopping season of the year. Everyone’s out buying presents.”  Hank said. They walked forward and Hank lingered closer to Connor, making sure that every time the kid looked over to him he was right there.

 

Connor didn’t unwrap his hands from his sweater, not even when they entered the first clothing store.  Not even to reach out and feel the fabrics as he looked at everything hanging on the racks. This was a better store than Target, but Hank had told him he could pick out three shirts, three pants, socks, and a new pair of shoes for his new job helping with the DNA labs.

 

Hank reached out first, pulling a button down shirt, a soft off white color, off the rack.  It looked a bit large for Connor, but maybe he could get the kid to try it on.

 

“This one looks nice.”  Hank said.

 

Connor looked at it and nodded.

 

“Do you want to try it on?”

 

“You can do that?”  Connor asked.

 

“Yeah, that way you can make sure it fits before you buy it.”  Hank said.

 

Connor looked at it and frowned, his nose wrinkling.  “Okay, I’ll try it on but I want the blue one instead.”  He said, one hand prying itself off of his sweater and pointing at a different shirt, a soft light blue.  Hank smiled and reached for it.

 

They looked around, gathering a small pile of clothes in their cart.  As the time went on, Connor started reaching out more. Touching the shirts Hank held up before nodding in approval or wrinkling his nose in discomfort.  Connor was picky, Hank didn’t mind.

 

Connor spent more time in the dressing room than most people, that was where Hank’s patience started to dwindle.  There was a line of people waiting and he was left sitting in a little chair waiting, people mulling around and talking all around him.  Connor poked his head out and smiled. He looked good, the shirt was definitely a bit large, but the slacks fit perfectly and he brushed his hair back out of his face as he leaned in to look in the mirror.

 

“I like them. All of them.  Except for the tan pants. I hate those very much.”  Connor said. He leaned in closer to the mirror, tilting his head a bit and smiling at himself.

 

“That’s good kid.  Just pick out the ones you want and we can pay for it.  Then we’ll find you some shoes.” Hank said. Connor smiled and nodded and retreated back into the dressing room.  Hank checked his watch.

 

They had all day, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend it in a dressing room at the mall two weeks before Christmas.  Luckily, Connor was much faster getting back into his cat sweater and picking out the clothes he wanted to get for work. Picking out shoes were much easier as Connor could pick out a pair of shoes he liked and try them on right there.  It almost surprised Hank, but Connor seemed even more picky about his shoes than he was about his clothes. As long as something was soft, Connor would wear it, but with shoes he had a lot of opinions.

 

If something pinched his toes, he said no.  If something had too many laces, he said no.  If they didn’t stop at the right place around his ankles, he said no.  It wasn’t even how the shoes looked, Connor would put any pair on and immediately know that he didn’t want them.

 

“You’re working with a bunch of lab techs, I don’t think they’ll care how your shoes look as long as they’re close toed.”  Hank said. He wasn’t much of a fan of shopping, but Connor was getting used to the choices. Unlike their first shopping trip.

 

Connor eventually picked a pair of shoes.  An ugly black and pink pair of running sneakers with memory foam insoles.  Connor’s face lit up as soon as he tried them on.

 

The last thing on the agenda was lunch.  Connor found a table while Hank ordered a whole pizza from the food court.  Barbeque chicken with pineapple and an order of cheese sticks and marinara. Connor had picked table off to the side, a booth tucked under an overhang and away from the traffic of shoppers coming and going.  Children ran by laughing and shouting as they pointed at Santa’s big chair being set up by teenagers dressed as Elves. Groups of friends carrying armfuls of shopping bags were loudly making holiday plans together.  Connor had his own shopping bags safely tucked under the table and his expression was pinched, eyebrows drawn together as he waited.

 

Hank kept an eye on him as he waited for their pizza.  The kid didn’t seem upset, just tired and maybe a bit overwhelmed.

 

“How’re ya feeling?”  Hank asked as he brought the food over.

 

“It’s loud here.”  Connor said.

 

“Yeah, it’ll be loud here as long as there’s a holiday coming up.”  Hank said.

 

Connor frowned.  “How many holidays are there?”

 

“A lot.”

 

“Oh.”  Connor’s nose wrinkled and reaching for a slice of pizza.  “Thank you for inviting me out.”

 

“Of course.  You need new clothes for the new job.  I know how much you like DNA and that science stuff.  North was the one who thought you would be a good fit, like a representative of Jericho.  She’s nervous.” Hank said. Pizza from a mall food court wasn’t the best, but Hank had had worse.

 

“She’s hoping to find someone?”  Connor asked.

 

“Something like that.”  Hank said. He didn’t have any right to share North’s business.  “What about you?”

 

Connor shrugged his shoulders, eyes down as he swirled a breadstick in his marinara.  “I’m excited to start work with the DPD. I know this program with Jericho will help a lot of people.”  Connor said. He didn’t look up. “I’m sure a lot of people will be very happy finding their family again.”

 

“But… you’re worried that you won’t find anyone?”  Hank asked.

 

Connor’s shoulders sank lower.  A few kids skipped by, loudly screeching that Rudolph song.  “No. I just don’t want to find them and I don’t want them to find me.”  Connor said. His eyebrows drew together as he thought. “I don’t think I want to do it.”

 

“That’s okay, you don’t have to.”  Hank said.

 

Connor looked up at him, his nose wrinkled and his lips pressed together.  “He doesn’t want to find me. I’m really happy to work in the lab, but I don’t want to be found.”  Connor said.

 

“Are you alright.”  Hank asked.

 

Connor shook his head.  “I want this job, Hank. But I don’t want to do the test.”  He said. He put is pizza down on the plate and looked under the table at his shopping bags.  “I can still do the job for Jericho even if I don’t want to find anyone.”

 

Connor sounded more like he was trying to convince himself, thinking he couldn’t have a good thing without having to do something he didn’t.  He seemed worried, constantly looking down at the new clothes suspiciously.

 

“Hey kid.  Connor. No one is going to make you test your own DNA in that lab.  No one is going to make you face something you don’t want to. You’re free now.” Hank said.

 

Connor shook his head.  “I am? Yeah, I guess so.  He left me there though.” Connor said softly.  He checked the bags again and then looked over his shoulder as the children screeched as elves passed out candy canes near one of the more festively decorated stores.  “I don’t want him to find me. He got a chance to get out and he left me there!”

 

“Who left you where?  Connor, are you alright?”  Hank asked. He didn’t know what he had said or did to make the kid panic.  Fifteen minutes ago, Connor was grinning as he wore those memory foam shoes in the store.  Right now he stared at Hank with watery eyes as if Hank was going to hurt him with that new stuff.

 

“My brother, Hank.  I was handcuffed to the bed, he wasn’t.  He left me there.” Connor said. His eyes were getting wider.  His voice faster, turning into a rushed whisper. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.  I should stop. I just don’t want to find him. Please”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys already know.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess I should warn you guys that once again there's a lot of graphic.... talks? About past traumas involving children, sexual abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, you name it. But Connor's safe now and he's starting to realize it.
> 
> Also, I love you guys and you amazing comments!!!!!

Hank sat still, eyebrows drawn together as Connor leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.  The kid was trembling.  Hank wanted to reach out to him, pull him close and let him bury himself away from all the troubles.  He leaned forward, hand outstretched, and then stopped.  He quietly pulled his hand back, letting it drop onto the table in front of him.

“Pizza here is shit.  Do you want to go home and order in?”  Hank asked.  There was too much activity here, too much noise and too many lights.  Emotions were rising high and spiralling as the two of them were surrounded by other people making it known that they were having a great time.  They needed a quiet place to breath.

“I hate mall pizza.”  Connor said, pulling his hands from his face.  His eyes were red and shiny, his cheeks puffy from being scrubbed by hands, hiding tears that Hank wasn’t even sure had actually fallen or not.  “Can we go to your place?  I don’t want to go back there yet.”

Hank nodded.  Connor was doing well over at that mansion full of people from Jericho, but Hank’s house was quiet and had Sumo.  That’s just what a kid in distress needed, a big lazy dog to bury their feelings into.  Hank left a few dollars on the table even thought it was a food court and didn’t have waiters.  He packed up the barely eaten pizza and breadsticks even though they sucked.  It was always a good time to teach Connor good habits, like tipping and not wasting food.

Connor’s hands were curled tightly into the front of his shirt, squeezing and stretching the cat face on the front of the sweater as they walked towards the exit and then out across the parking lot.  His bags hung awkwardly off his wrist, but when Hank offered to carry them for him he got wide eyed and frightened.

Something had set the kid off.  Hank didn’t know what scared him, but getting him to a safe, quiet place was the first step.  Connor didn’t even look up at the lights as they got into the car and drove away.  Neither of them said a word the rest of the drive.  No one broken the silence, but as the seconds ticked by into minutes and they got farther from the mall and closer to the familiar streets of his neighborhood, Connor’s breathing calmed down and he didn’t grip his clothes quiet as tightly.

Sumo lifted his head when Hank walked through the door, but jumped off of the couch and barked excitedly at the sight of Connor coming in behind him.  Connor’s bags fell from his hands and his knees hit the floor in a rough crack and, just as expected, his face went straight into Sumo’s thick fur.  His hands disappeared as they sank into the dog, petting him and holding him close.

Hank gave them a moment, let the quiet peace help calm him down, and went to shut the door in the hallway.  Cole’s room was full of boxes and half empty, but it wasn’t something he wanted to bring up just yet.  The door had not been shut since Connor had moved out, but most of the memories had been aired out.

He came back to the living room and smiled, seeing that the two of them hadn’t moved a muscle.  “Come on you too.  It’s more comfortable on the couch.”  Hank said.

Connor’s face peeked out again, his eyes less wet and red and a small smile on his face.  “Sumo isn’t allowed on the couch.”

“He gets on it anyway and you always let him.”  Hank said.  “What pizza do you want?”

“I would like to try that same kind, but as a better pizza.”  Connor said.

Hank smiled, barbecue chicken and pineapple it was then.  Hank picked up the phone and ordered it from his favorite pizza place, delivery in forty five minutes.  When he walked back into the living room he saw Connor leaning back on the couch, Sumo taking up as much space as possible on his lap and tail flapping back and forth happily.

“He really missed you.  No one is there to sneak him treats throughout the day.”  Hank said.

Connor gave him a stiff smile, but it was still a smile.  “He’s a good boy.  He deserves it.”

Hank shrugged.  “Treats are for when he sits and behaves, not because he did something that you thought was funny.”

“Let’s agree to disagree.”  Connor said.

Hank wanted to give Connor time to get his thoughts in order, to figure out how he was thinking and feeling before he brought up what had happened at the mall, but it was still something that they had to discuss.  If Connor was under too much stress, then perhaps things were moving too fast for him.  Maybe he wasn’t fully out of that place in his head where he believed he was anything less than a real, living person.  Maybe he was afraid of what the people he worked with would say or do to him.  Maybe he was really just afraid of someone finding him.

Connor said his brother had left him.  Hank didn’t even know Connor had any family that he had known about.  For some reason, every time Hank tried to bring up the image of Connor growing up in that place it was always of a scared little boy, big brown eyes staring up at people who were so much bigger and scarier than he was.  He had never considered that there was someone suffering with him, even though there were other people in those facilities.

“No one is going to make you do it, you know.”  Hank said.

Connor didn’t look up at him.  He stared down at his hands, digging through Sumo’s fur and the dog loved it, lifting up to press his body against Connor’s hands.  “I know.”  Connor said.  He shrugged his shoulders, letting them fall as he leaned closer to the dog.  “I know that.  I just let my thoughts run away from me.  I got wrapped up in something.”

“Was it because of your brother?”  Hank asked.

Connor looked at him, holding his gaze steadily and then shrugged again.  “I suppose so.”

“I didn’t know you had any family.”  Hank said.

“Well, he left me.  We were really young and really valuable.  Big spenders would come just for us and if they wanted to hand over a fortune they could just take us for the night.  We got to be outside then.  Only for a few minutes in the car.  It’s not like we got to see much though, we had clients to focus on.  We were like this.”  Connor pulled one hand away from Sumo and held it out in front of him, about four feet off the ground.  Children.  Young children.  “We were twins, looked almost identical.  People liked that.”

Connor’s voice was flat and empty, coldly reminding Hank of those first few weeks when Hank saw Connor at the club and then kidnapped him and brought him home.  It was like Connor had left all of his emotions in the mall parking lot before coming home.

“It was really expensive to take us out of the club, so it only happened on special occasions.  It was nice though, we were too valuable to be beaten or hurt back then.  People really liked twins.  What’s funny is that Nines saved me.  I was sick, I think I told you that, and they don’t keep sick babies.  They would have killed me without him.  I suppose I’m supposed to be thankful for that.”  Connor said.  His eyebrows drew tightly together, his gaze drifting off and unfocusing, but his voice stayed flat and calm.  “But he left me.  We were in a really nice hotel room.  The man let us order whatever we wanted from room service.  We got to watch cartoons for a bit.  He asked Nines to handcuff me to the bed, they always thought I was prettier when I was like that and Nines was always gentler with me than they were.  Once the night was over and the client had passed out drunk on the bed, he didn’t uncuff me and he had taken the key after I was tied down.  Nines was wide awake.  He had been staring out the door.  I begged him not to leave me, because he knew what they would do to me if he left me here.  I couldn’t go with him, not with some drunk naked man laying half on top of me and handcuffs keeping me on that bed.  He promised he wasn’t leaving, that he would come right back.  He promised to send someone for me.  He promised not to leave me because I begged.  And he left.  And he never came back.  Turns out that by myself, I’m worthless.”

Hank watched Connor, watched the story boil up inside of him and spill out of his mouth like an overflow.  Hank didn’t know what to say.  Part of him wanted to thank Connor for sharing this, something he hadn’t told anyone else and something he likely wanted to keep secret.

“You brother’s name was Nines?”  Hank said.

Connor looked up at him, eyes narrowing a bit.  He blinked, bit his lip, and smiled.  A small laugh escaped as a lot of tension eased out of his body and the emotions came streaming back.  Connor didn’t start crying again, but he looked close to it.

“I never realized that was a weird name before.  Now that I’m out in the world, I feel lucky to be Connor.”  He said.

“I’m glad.”  Hank said.  He didn’t know what to do about all the rest of it.  He didn’t fully understand the circumstances, but if a four foot tall child saw an escape and was brave enough to take it, then Hank was proud of him.  He wouldn’t say that to Connor, not the way he seemed to look back on it, but Nines had escaped and hopefully survived.  “Have you brought this up to anyone else?”

Connor shook his head.  “We were a lot younger.  Kids.  I’ve been trying to forget.  But mostly I think they would want me to take that test to find him again and I don’t think I want to.  You know they beat me after he left.  They told me I was worthless now, that the only reason they kept me around at all was because of him.  Amanda said I had to learn how to be useful again.  I had to behave.  I wasn’t doing good.  I’m awkward.  It’s endearing when I was young young, and I was starting to get too old.  Amanda kept saying I was running out of clients, I was running out of people who wanted me, and soon they would have to get rid of me.  I would have done anything for her if she would have let me stay.  And then you showed up and threw a wrench into it.”

Connor laughed, not a small stiff one but he smiled and turned to Hank and laughed at his own words as if he had made a hilarious joke.  Hank found himself smiling too.  He found himself grinning from ear to ear at seeing how genuinely relieved Connor seemed, bringing up their first meeting at the very end of all that trauma.

“Ah yes, where I screwed up and stole you.”  Hank said.  He matched Connor’s smile, matched his happiness and they both relaxed a bit more.

“Saved me.  But also, yes, you stole me.  Not becoming for an officer of the law.”  Connor said.  Sumo lifted his head and huffed.  Connor’s attention snapped back down at the dog and hands went back to curling into the thick fur.  “I’m glad you did it.  Looking back.  Now that I know things I didn’t know before.  Now that I feel real most of the time.”

It was a relief to hear.  It was months ago, when Hank stole Connor out of that place, dragged him outside kicking and shouting and into the car.  Back when Connor first arrived at Jericho and had to be gently coaxed out of the car like a scared animal.  Back when Hank drank his feelings away and yelled every time he was reminded of Cole.

“I think you should tell North about what you told me today.”  Hank said.

Connor looked back up at him and frowned.  “She would want me to take the test.”  He said.

Hank nodded.  “Probably, but not for the reasons you’re afraid of.  She would want you to take it for reasons that you should hear from her.”

Connor took a deep breath, eyes drifting down to look at Sumo and he let it out in a slow, even sigh.  “Alright.”

It was bittersweet.  Hank’s gaze drifted down the hall to the shut door.  A room half cleared out.  He had half been hoping to offer the room to Connor, but it looked like it might stay empty until he sold the house or died in it.  Connor wouldn’t need to stay here with an old drunk, not if what he was assuming was right.

“Hank?”  Connor asked softly.  Hank hummed, looking up at the kid.  “I’m starving.  How soon until the good pizza gets here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I act like I have surprise twists in this story if half of you saw it coming??
> 
> Still, surprise!! Yes, Nines will be making an actual appearance later on in the story, but surprises surprises. No spoilers.
> 
> The reason this update was so fast was because of those enthusiastic comments. Please give me more.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news everyone, I'm officially done with my commissions. I will now be back to my regularly scheduled writing! Which is sporadic and messy, but at least it will be focused on this and Path to Eden (my other really sad Connor fic)
> 
> Thank you all for your comments, patience, and endless support.

Connor met with North at Jericho, at their shiny office building that they had to get after becoming a legitimate agency.  A lot of the offices had big windows, including North’s.  Hank stayed outside.  He sat in a chair in the hallway.  He watched the two of them sit across from one another.  Connor stared at his hands, neatly folded on the desk in front of him.  North only looked at Connor, patiently listening as he seemed to stumble over his words.  He was so frightened.  Hank could tell.

It was a lot to take in.  They were all finding out more and more about Connor’s life, his past, those horrible things he faced while he was held captive there.  All of it made him sick.  He doubted he would ever truly understand how it felt to be in Connor’s shoes, but he wanted to make sure the kid never had to deal with shit like that again.

“Do you think he’s North’s son?”

Hank looked up at the voice, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms in front of his chest.  He didn’t see Markus much, even when he went to the Manfred mansion to see the kid.  It was understandable, Markus was leading an organization, trying to solve one of the biggest human rights crises in Detroit history.  He didn’t have time to meet Hank at the door every time he visited.

“It doesn’t really matter what I think.  I learned a long time ago that opinions and ideas don’t mean too much when compared to the truth.”  Hank said.

Markus was silent for a moment, pondering it, before sitting down in the seat next to Hank in the hallway.  “I think he is.”

“North’s kid?  One of her long lost boys?”  Hank said.  He believed it.  The stories lined up close enough.  Still, he wasn’t going to say more than he had to until he knew for sure.

Connor had shared a lot with Hank, a lot of those horrors, a lot of the influence Amanda had on him.  She had told Connor that he was born sick.  They didn’t keep sick babies.  They left them somewhere, killed them, tossed them aside.  But not Connor.  Not him and his twin brother, who was healthy and stronger and made his escape when he could.  And Amanda used that against him.  Brainwashed him from the very moment he was born, to make him thankful he wasn’t thrown out like trash.

North had shared a few things as well, sharing Hank’s pain.  Her grief, her child laid across her chest.  He couldn’t imagine it.  It was painful for her, but it was a pain he could never fully understand.  He had lost his son and it had torn him apart.  But North’s experience was different.  She spoke about her babies, the small sick little boy that was laid across her chest, that one bit of decency they ever gave her.  The baby she got to hold and touch for a moment until her second one was born and they were both swept away.  Twins were valuable apparently.  Connor, alone, was not.

He couldn’t go up to these two and say with absolute certainty that they were family.  That North and Connor would finally get to know who each other were and how safe they were now.  He couldn’t say it.

“If I say it and I’m wrong, it’ll just destroy them both all over again.”  Hank said.

Markus nodded, watching the two of them through the glass.  North had her face buried in her hands.  Connor was crying.  Hank felt bad for watching, but he was only here because Connor had asked him to come.

“They’re both stronger than any of us could guess.  But I think you’re right.  We have the DNA program set up now, we have funding and a Jericho representative.  It will continue even after the evidence against Kamski is found.”  Markus said.  His voice was calm, but Hank glanced over and it was clear he was exhausted.  He could read it in the slump of his shoulders.  “No one expected it to be so easy to find him.  Besides, they have the same intensity in their eyes.  It’s almost intimidating.”

“You think Connor is intimidating?”  Hank asked.  He wanted to laugh, but he was so tired.  He was exhausted and conflicted and there was nothing funny about any of this.  “That kid would step on a snail and then cry for fifteen minutes about it.”

Markus smiled, nodding slowly.  “He has a good heart.  It doesn’t seem like he would ever want to bring harm to anyone.  But he’s incredible brave, and strong, and North had him enrolled in self-defense classes after he moved to the mansion.  I heard he’s doing startlingly well.”

“Good.  I would love to see him beat the shit out of the next person who thinks they can put their hands on him.”  Hank said.  The idea did lift his spirit some.  He had been so worried about keeping Connor safe from other people, it didn’t occur to him to make sure Connor could defend himself.  “Still, he’s soft.”

“All things considered, I think that’s a miracle.  North has a lot of anger inside of her.  Her strength is that she’s not letting it overcome her.  Connor has a lot of pain, and his strength is that he doesn’t let it destroy him, turn him into someone full of hate.”  Markus said.  Through the window, they were both crying now.  Hank felt like a peeping tom, looking at something private and intimate, something he had no right to see.

“You and North?”  Hank said.

Markus hummed.  “We’re planning to get married next year.”  He said.  He watched them through the glass, but didn’t look like he shared Hank’s shame.  “She told me about her boys a long time ago.  I’m glad she’s ready to go looking for them.  If Connor is one of them, and he had found his way here to her before any of us were ready to realize it, then I will think of it as a miracle.  He will always have a place with us, regardless.  Jericho is a family, after all.”

“So if he agrees to the DNA test, and it comes back positive, you’re still willing to be what, his stepdad?”  Hank asked.  He didn’t know how he felt about the conversation, but he definitely felt something.

“If he wants me to be, but he already has a preferred father figure.  Besides, he has made it very clear that he doesn’t want to permanently move into the mansion with all of us.  It’s just temporary.”  Markus said.  

“A preferred father figure?”  Hank asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He talks about you all the time.  About Sumo.  About that house.  He showed me the blanket you gave him and all the books you let him read.  You got him a library card and enrolled into classes.  He hates being treated like an incompetent child, which is understandable, but you gave him little pieces of comfort and access to information for him to explore for himself.  He always has his nose in that cell phone.  He trusts you.  I think him moving out temporarily was so he could get it all settled in his head.”  Markus said.  North was the one talking now, her eyes downcast, one hand outstretched and gripping tight to Connor’s.

“He’s confused.  I kidnapped him.  He’s just latched onto me because I treated him with the smallest bit of kindness.”  Hank said.  North stood up, walked around her desk.

“Maybe in the beginning.  But not anymore.”  Markus said.

North and Connor embraced, holding each other tight.

“Why are you telling me?  What’s the point?”  Hank asked.

Markus turned away from the scene behind the window.  “I just thought it was important for you to know.  If we turn out to be Connor’s family, we’re not going to take him away from you.  He’s not going to choose us over you.  And you’re not going to lose him.  He wants to come home to you and that dog.  The dog mostly.”  Markus ended with a smile, a soft grin that didn’t quite show his teeth.  It was genuine, but not an overly happy or excited one.  Content.

The office door opened.  Markus and Hank both jumped to their feet.  Only Connor walked out of the office, seemingly surprised to see both of them waiting, but gave them a small smile.  He stepped back for Markus to go into the office, ducking his head as the man squeezed his shoulder as he passed.

“Thank you for waiting.”  Connor said, once he hand Hank were the only ones left in the hallway.  “It was an insightful talk.  I see why you wanted me to have it with her.”

Hank walked slowly up to Connor, giving the kid a chance to decide if he wanted to step away or let Hank come closer.  Connor instead leaned towards him, body relaxing the closer Hank got.  “How did it go?”  He asked.

“She might be my mother.  How strange is that?  I never gave much thought to who she might be, and now it might be North.”  Connor said.  His eyes were unfocused, far away. “I agreed to the test, but I only want it to be matched to hers.  I don’t want to be tested for anyone else.  Well, except Kamski, but only then if it turns out I am her son.”

“She told you about Kamski?”  Hank asked.

Connor nodded.  “She told me why it was so important for her to find out the truth.  I can’t really say no, not if it’ll mean he gets away with it.”  He said.

Markus had been right.  Connor was incredibly brave and incredibly strong.  Hank wanted to reach out and pull him close, but he stayed still.  He let Connor move closer, let him lean towards him.  He didn’t move, he wanted Connor to decide how close he got.

“Have you met Kamski before?  Do you know him?”  Hank asked.

Connor wrinkled his nose and shrugged.  “Not really.  I met him once or twice in passing, when he was… when there were meetings with Amanda.”  Connor was hesitating, old habits to protect Amanda from them.  “He liked girls.  Nines and I were left alone by him mostly.”

“He left you alone ‘mostly’?  What does that mean?”  Hank asked.

Connor looked up at him, surprised.  Connor took a step closer.  “He touched me once.  Not like that.  Not in a bad way, I don’t think.”  Connor said quickly, reaching out and gripping the sleeve of Hank’s jacket.  “It was after Nines left.  I was… punished.  They thought I knew where he was, or that it was my fault he was gone, and if he was gone there’s wasn’t a need to keep me unmarked.  My face was all bruised up.  I was bleeding I think.  They left me sitting out in the hallway, it was cold, and the fact that I couldn’t tell them where he went just made them more angry.  He went to go see Amanda that day, he saw me in the hallway.”

Hank was standing perfectly still, body stiff but he tried not to appear angry.  He was angry, but not at Connor.  Seeing him angry just might make Connor more nervous.  He didn’t want that.  Hank had spent the past few weeks and months trying to convince Connor that he was safe and trustworthy.

“He reached out and held my chin, tilting my face up at him.  He just looked at me for a moment.  That was it.  Then he left.”  Connor said.

“He just looked at you?”  Hank asked.

Connor bobbed his head in a nervous nod.  “Yes.  I think I must have looked awful.”

Hank didn’t have all the details, but Connor would have been young at that time.  Fucked up and beaten, sitting on the floor in a hallway waiting for judgement or more punishment.  And if the tests came back positive, the kid’s own biological father just looked at him and then left him there.  Hank took a deep breath, reaching out slowly, casually, and pulling Connor close to him, arms wrapped around his shoulder.

“It’s okay.  You don’t have to worry about him.  You don’t even have to meet him.  No matter what that test says, he’s not your family.  You don’t owe him a thing, he doesn’t deserve you.  You got your family right here.”  Hank whispered.  Connor leaned against him, standing perfectly still in his arms, hands still gripping at Hank’s sleeve.

“We have to go to the lab soon.  I have to give them my spit.  Then we should know in twenty-four to forty-eight hours if there’s a probability we’re related.”  Connor said.  Still, he didn’t move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys already know.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys know the theme of this fic is found families?

Hank didn’t know what the results were right away.  Connor got to be there for all of it.  He finished his paperwork, he started the job, and then got talked through the entire process by the lab tech.  If it came back positive, the testing will continue as a program for Jericho, for all the other families ripped apart, but only for those who want it.

Hank was proud of Connor.  He was doing something that fascinated him and he was getting paid for it.  A few months of progress and Connor was free, he had a part time job as a lab assistant, he was getting his education, documented proof of his citizenship, and he was starting to get used to it.  That’s what Hank was excited for, Connor to be used to being alive.  Connor deserved to go out for a lunch break every day, take a walk in the park and eat a bad hotdog and think that it was normal instead of a confusing privilege.

Connor got to be there when the results got in.  Hank was at home, packing away the last of the boxes in Cole’s room.  He had grieved over everything his son had touched, had categorized every object into his memories, everything that Cole had touched, held, and loved while he lived in this room.  It was empty now.  It smelled like the rest of the house now, not the sweet smell of licorice.

There were two piles of boxes, one to donate and one to keep tucked away.  He went to those meetings every once in a while at the community center, not saying much but listening to everyone else on their struggle to sobriety.  They all talked about healing.  How it felt like cutting open the wounds again and letting it bleed until the infections were all flushed away.

The room still needed some touching up before it was ready.  Still, after all the work he put into cleaning it, he hadn’t brought himself to scrub the crayon marks off the walls of to shampoo and vacuum all the glitter from the carpets.  Hank didn’t even know what the glitter was from, but the kid had a lot of it in here.  Hank was always covered in it.

His phone buzzed, lit up with a notification.  Hank didn’t look at it right away.  He wanted to give everyone else time to process the results.

He was afraid.  He had no right to be.  Whatever the tests came back as, it wouldn’t really have any major impact on his life.  One result would be that Connor finds his family.  He finds the woman who gave birth to him and then is burdened with the knowledge of who his birth father was and the circumstances in which he was born and conceived.  He would have to know that even though he doesn’t want to see his brother, North might want to find him.

Connor might want to stay with his family.  They could form a stronger bond, despite already being close, and then he could decide he wants to stay with them.  North could get her chance to be a mother to this wildly confusing and endearing young adult.  Markus could keep busy with work but come home to a family.  Hank could stay here, with Sumo and an empty room.  He would be perfectly happy.  Connor would safe and loved and that’s exactly what that boy needed.

Or Connor could ask to come back.  Markus seemed to imply that Connor did want to stay with him, to leave that mansion full of people who understand him and come back to a pathetic drunk who kidnapped/saved him and the large dog who used him as a bed.

And now a cleaned out room full of nothing.  Not even a memory was left in their, they were all packed away in the garage or in his head.  All that remained was an old bed and the sparkle of glitter in the carpets.  Hank dusted himself off and got everything put away where it needed to be in the garage, deciding to take the boxes of donations out later.  He waited until the nervous energy had settled in the pit of his stomach before checking his phone.

It was North, asking for him to meet them all for lunch at noon at the mansion.

They had the results then and they wanted him there.  He wondered if it was North’s idea, or Markus’s, or if Connor had asked for him.  Connor had asked for Hank to be there when he talked to North, maybe the kid really did want him around.

Hank texted back, asking if he should bring Sumo.  North responded with a simply ‘sure’.  So when it was time to head out he got Sumo ready, the dog on his best behavior the moment Hank said they were going to see Connor.  It was amazing, the bond that kid had made with his dog.  Enough to make the dumb creature realize that if he behaved, he got to see Connor sooner.

He never stopped feeling out of place in that rich neighborhood, in that mansion with the paintings on the walls, the mahogany wood finishes that cost more to be installed than Hank’s entire house did.  The place felt fancy, it was rich and classy and Hank had no place there.  Markus offered him a beer after he came, but Hank declined.

Lunch was his first time meeting Carl Manfred as well, except for in passing.  He was set at the head of the table, Markus hanging close by, always with fond looks on both of their faces and hushed conversations between them.  Today was also the first day he met Leo Manfred as well.  Hank could sense the tension he brought to the room, but also how Carl reached out for him, called him son, and asked him to sit on the other side of him.

It was a strange family, but they all seemed mostly content.  Mostly happy.  Markus’s attention drifted from Carl and Leo, it moved down the table to North.  Hank remembered why they were there.  He already knew.  He could see it in the way Markus stared at her, the way North stared at Connor, and the way Connor just stared down at his hands.  All of them were so focused on something, so thoughtful.  Hank already knew the answer.

He watched Connor.

“The results came back.”  North said, standing up once everyone was there.  

Connor sank further, leaning over the table, his hands twitching.  The coin rolling between his fingers.

“So, yes.  Biologically, we’re family.”  North continued.

Hank tuned out most of her speech.  He just watched as Connor frowned, his eyes narrowed and carefully taking in her words but only looking at the quarter he spun and flicked and held.  His fingers pressed tightly against the ridges on the side of the coin, the pad of his thumb pressed so hard against it his finger was white.

“We talked about it, we’re not going to change how Jericho is helping him.  No special treatment, no straying from the path he’s on now.”  North said.

Connor looked up, turning his attention to Hank.  He looked tired.  He didn’t look upset, he didn’t look excited.  No emotion, nothing positive or negative, just a blank expression and tired eyes.  Hank wanted to reach out to him, promise him that nothing was different.  Now he just knew a bit more about where he came from.  Who his mother was, who his father was, and why he existed.

“It’s not going to change anything.  I gave birth to him, but we both agreed that after so long it’s hard to call each other mother and son.  We want to take time to get to know one another more, understand each other, and then maybe form a closer bond.”  North said.  

Hank looked up at her.  She looked just as tired as Connor did.  Maybe there was a bit of relief there.  Or a bit of sadness about what was taken away from her and what she can never get back.  She had lived her worst fear, the one she told Hank about those few weeks back.  Her own son, who she had suffered for, carried inside of her, and held for a few brief moments had walked through the front doors of Jericho in need of help and she had no idea who he was.

It didn’t feel like a win.  Sure, there were losers.  Kamski would go to prison, but would hopefully take a plea deal for a lesser sentence in exchange for Amanda.  But no one won.  No one got to jump up and throw their fists in the air in victory.  Now they were just alive.  And together.  And Connor reached out to grab Hank’s hand and squeeze it tightly.

“They’ll sort it out.  They always do.”  Connor whispered.  “I just want to go home now.”

“Home?”  Hank asked.  They were at the mansion.  Connor had a bed here, his things here, a room.  They had everything the poor kid would need right here.

“I can sleep on the couch again.  I liked it.  And I sleep through the night now.”  Connor said.

Hank squeezed his hand back and smiled, nodding.  He didn’t understand why the kid still wanted to come home with him, but he would always welcome him home.  Hank wasn’t supposed to treat Connor like a child, he didn’t like it, but he still felt that natural instinct to keep the boy safe.  

“For how long?”  Hank asked.

“How every long you let me.”  Connor kept whispering.  “I already talked to North about it.  She thinks I’m ready to come home.”

Hank was relieved.  He had worried quietly about Connor not wanting to come back.  He had a family now after all.  He had a life he could live.  A job.  A sense of his identity.  And yet he still wanted to come back and live his life with Hank and Sumo.

“After lunch at least.  I’m starving.”  Hank said.

Connor’s body relaxed.  The tension easing out of him like a leaking balloon.  It was a nice big lunch.  A somber celebration perhaps.  They could celebrate that the two of them were alive, that they found one another, and that they had escaped all that bullshit they had in their previous lives.  But Hank could feel that no one here was actually genuinely happy.  Not about the results, but what it all meant.

There was still someone missing.  Connor may not want to find him, but North was probably desperate for to.  She had one child back, only one.

They finished eating.  Leo and Carl went outside together, having a quiet chat.  Markus and North disappeared as soon as the plates were cleared away.  Kara and Luther seemed to be the only ones happily going about their day.  Alice had no fears or worries running through these halls.  Connor didn’t get up.  He waited quietly, waiting for Hank to finish his coffee.

“Thank you for being here Hank.”

“You asked me to come.  Of course I would be here.”  Hank said.  His coffee was getting cold.  Too much cream.

“You’re on my side, of course I wanted you.  Everyone else has… everyone else.  It’s nice to have someone just in my corner.”  Connor said.

Hank smiled into his drink.  Cold coffee was awful but Hank didn’t grimace.  Connor was asking for support, for someone to hang back and let him choose while North, and Markus to some extent, pondered their lives and their children and who they do and do not want to look for.  North found one child, she still had one more she likely didn’t want to abandon.  Connor needed someone to back up and support his feelings.  He wanted to be validated.

Hank didn’t say anything for a few moments.  He couldn’t promise anything, not when so much of this was out of his control.  He took a deep breath and reached out, slowly, for Connor.  If the kid pulled back even the slightest bit then he would stop.  Connor didn’t move away, didn’t even bat an eye as Hank squeezed his shoulder.

“I’m always in your corner, kid.”  Hank said.  He put his mostly empty cup down and stood up, smiling as Connor jumped to his feet as well.  “Even if these guys decide to do something for themselves, it doesn’t mean you have to be involved.”

“They want to find him.”  Connor said.

“I figured.  But you don’t have to see him.”  Hank said.  Connor followed him as he walked towards the front door.  “Even if they find him, you don’t have to meet with him.”

“Really?  Even though he’s family?”  Connor asked.

“Family is just a word, Connor.  And definitions aren’t set in stone.  They change from time to time.  Family might not always mean what you think.”  Hank said.  He reached for his coat, Connor didn’t do the same.

“Do you think I should see him?”  Connor said.

Hank sighed.  “That’s your choice.  Not mine.  I have opinions, if you want to hear them.”  When he finished offering, Connor’s head bobbed up and down eagerly.  “I think your brother was a child.  A scared kid, who found a way out and took it.  He saw you tied down and realized he couldn’t get you out fast enough and quiet enough and so he ran.  I don’t think he meant to leave you.”

“But he never came back like he said.  He never sent anybody for me.”  Connor said.  He wrapped his arms around his chest.

“Yeah, he didn’t.  You stayed there.  That’s the truth of the matter and we don’t know why he never sent anyone for you.  He could have been selfish and afraid after making his escape and I honestly wouldn’t blame a traumatized child for being too scared to speak up.  You don’t have to forgive him.  He could have been murdered by tweakers the moment he stepped into the alley for the first time.  He could have been picked up and shipped off somewhere else.  Anything could have happened to him and no one knows.  All we know for sure is that you stayed there.”

“Until you came for me.”  Connor said.

Hank shook his head, not wanting to start up anything too emotionally vulnerable for the two of them.  Hank was the opposite of a hero.  He retraumatized Connor in his bullshit rescue attempt and then he ignored both of their deep running issues until it blew up in both of their faces and Connor ran off.

“Yeah, but Reed sent me.  He had been building the case for a while and didn’t want to get recognized at this club.”  Hank said.  

“Reed did?  He’s a prick.”  Connor said, a big smile spreading across his face at his own private joke.

“He really is, but he’s the reason you got out.  He had you specially picked out.  Said you were the one who knew where to find the people organizing this.”  Hanks said.  It felt like so long ago, back when he had to watch some awkward boy dance on the stage in hopes someone would want to pay for an hour of his time.  Back when his whole worth relied on how much money he brought in and how many people wanted him.  It felt like such a long time ago, not just a few months.

“I didn’t turn out to be much help, did I?”  Connor said.  He was still smiling.  “Why did he pick me?  Who even told him about me?”

“Some source he has.  Never told me who they were, just that they had to find you.”  Hank said.

Connor didn’t say anything, but his face was pinched and once he pulled on his coat he held it tightly against him.  He didn’t know what was going through the kid’s head, something that seemed to keep him thinking, trapped in his head as he tried to work out his feelings.  Hank whistled, Sumo came barelling down the stairs, running from the sound of a little girl shrieking with laughter.  They all stepped outside.

“Hank?”  Connor asked softly.  Hank hummed, letting Connor know he had his attention.  “I don’t think I want to know.  Not right now.”

They climbed into the car, Hank didn’t say anything to encourage or discourage Connor’s statement.  He just let it hang in the air.  It would always be Connor’s choice, but Hank didn’t want to influence him on it.  The kid might change his mind one day, Hank would support it either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe, the family everyone was looking for had been there the whole time (insert eye emoji)


	31. Chapter 31

1 Year Later

Connor didn’t want to focus on the case.  Hank was curious, but he stayed out of it as well.  It was probably a good thing, not dwelling on it, not letting it consume their thoughts or the new mood they set for their house.  Hank asked for updates from Reed whenever he saw something in the newspaper.

There was an understanding between all of them.  They couldn’t win everything, they couldn’t get the drastic victory that they all wanted.  Kamski took a plea deal, he wouldn’t go to prison as a pedophile or as a rapist.  He would go to prison for human trafficking and be a registered sex offender for prostitution.  Nothing on his record will say what he did to North and countless other girls he had claimed ownership of.

But in exchange they got Amanda.  Connor wanted to know nothing.  He didn’t even want to hear her name.  Hank stood by that choice and kept all information on her case away from him.  Hank avoided all of it.  All he knew was that Kamski was about as ready to use Amanda as a scapegoat as she was to do to him.  He watched the news when she was arrested, late when Connor was asleep in his room with the door shut tight.

He had only seen her once, in a decades old photograph.  He hadn’t wondered about what she might look like now, the woman Connor grew up idolizing.  The woman Connor still felt haunted by.  Connor knew she was arrested, though he kept away from news about it.  Hank had spent too many nights trying to comfort that kid, shaking and crying, asking if she was mad at him, if she hated him, if she wanted to get rid of him.  He hated her.  He hated that she didn’t look as evil as she was.

Reed had texted him, asking him to meet at the bar to discuss the case.  Hank was worried they would want Connor to testify.  Connor wasn’t ready for that.  Hank could hardly help with the nightmares already, the surprise shakiness Connor had when he thought of Amanda, whether he meant to think about her or not.  There wasn’t a chance he could sit in the same room as her, face her as her accuser, and deliver a statement.  Not yet.  Maybe not ever.

Hank said as much at the bar, when he found Gavin shitfaced with his head in his hands.  Hank sat down next to him, ordered a water.  He had his AA coin in his pocket, where it always felt heavy and burning hot.  Always reminding him of what Connor would say or do if he relapsed again.

“I’m not asking him to testify.  We’re not that desperate for witnesses.”  Reed said.  He kept drinking, his head tilted back, throat bared, and Hank watched as he gulped.  He wasn’t strong enough to look away, but he didn’t ask for a sip and he only drank his water.  Only water.  “Besides, he never had much to say on the case anyway.”

“I’m sure he has a lot he could say, it’s just hard to get that kid to betray her sometimes.  He won’t even tell his doctors about her most of the time, let alone me or North.  If he has to be in the same room as her, he’ll look at her and probably  make up some big story about how she’s really innocent in the hopes that she wouldn’t be angry with him.”  Hank said.  He watched Reed take another drink.

“He’s still that bad?”

“He’s getting better.  He’s doing pretty good really.  It’s really back and forth sometimes.”  Hank said.  He swirled his glass, watching the ice chips clink against the edge.

“I need to set up a meeting.  Get an official statement from Connor to be read on his behalf at the trial.”  Reed said.  He lifted his hand and ordered another drink.

“Simon already helped him organize his statement.  Connor wants nothing to do with this anymore.”  Hank said.

“Okay, so how about a meeting with him and one of the other victims?”  Reed said.  His eyes were hazy and red, drooping down as he struggled to keep them open.

Hank wrinkled his nose and stared at him.  He was drinking water at Jimmy’s bar, watching a drunk detective come up with every excuse he could think of to try and get Connor to meet someone.

“Organize it with Jericho.  Talk to North.”  Hank said.

“He doesn’t want to talk to North yet.  He wants to talk to Connor first.”

“Well, who the fuck is he then?  I’m not letting some nutcase get to Connor just because you’re drunk and think they should talk.”  Hank said.

Reed shook his head, swaying a bit in his seat as he turned to more fully face Hank.  “He’s not a nutcase.  He’s my source.  You know, he told me how to find Connor and then I sent you.  They know each other, it’s cool.”

Hank sometimes wished he wasn’t sober all the time.  He sometimes wished he could numb the pain when it all bubbled up inside again.  But he had to admit, when he was sober he could think clearer.

“You know, I graduated top of my class at the police academy?”  Hank said.  He finished his ice water, taking time to savour the cold as he gulped it down.  “I was the youngest police lieutenant in city history.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.  Is your source Connor’s brother?”  Hank asked.

Reed grimaced, his face scrunching up so his old scars folded like deep wrinkles on his face.  “Maybe!  They look exactly alike so I kinda always figured every since you got the kid and I saw him for the first time.  Richard just has blue eyes and is like, a foot taller.  Like-”  Gavin stopped mid-sentence, holding a hand above his head to indicate height.  “How did you figure that out?”

“Well, Connor said his brother promised to come back or send someone.  Connor told me all about what happened the night he left.  I never blamed the kid, and it was probably hard to get someone to listen to him when he was on the streets.  Connor was so lost when he entered the world for the first time, and he had me and Jericho.  It would have taken longer than he wanted, but you sent me.  Your super secret anonymous source picked Connor specifically to be your big breakthrough in the case, and he didn’t end up doing much for it.  The only other reason I can think of is that he wanted to get Connor out of there and that things were finally in place to do that.”  Hank said.

North mentioned Nines from time to time.  She wondered about him.  Connor told her a few things; what he was like, how he behaved, how he left.  She missed him, wished she knew what had happened to him.  Connor thought Nines abandoned him, North was afraid he was killed on the streets.

“He goes by Richard now.  Less confusing for everyone.  I swear I didn’t know about it until I saw Connor.  I seriously did think he was going to help, I thought this was getting to an inside source, not a rescue mission.”  Gavin said.

“Where is he?”  Hank asked.

Gavin’s face was already flushed, but it turned a slightly deeper shade of red.  “My place.”

“You’re fucking the witness?”  Hank asked.

“I was fucking him before he was a witness, okay?  He told me about all this shit after he moved in.”

“You started the case months before you sent me to get Connor.  Why didn’t he tell you about that earlier?”  Hank watched as Reed ordered another drink.  Straining to pull a smile on as he looked at it in front of him.  Hank got another water.

“I don’t think he trusted me yet.  Imagine, he shares all these secrets with me to try and tear the place down, but he’s still nervous about sending me into a sex club for his brother.  He was horrified when I told him I had to send another detective instead.”  Gavin said.

Hank didn’t need to ask to know why.  It was easy to assume.  Nines, or Richard, or whoever he wanted to be, was worried about sending the wrong person in and his brother just getting hurt more.  He had no doubt that the kid was scared; scared when he ran away, scared when he was alone on the streets, scared of sending someone for Connor and finding out he only sent another person to hurt him.  Hank hadn’t even met the kid, but he knew fear and anger drove most of the people in Jericho so it likely influenced him as well.

“He doesn’t know I’m asking you.  I’m just sick of seeing him moping around about it.  He says over and over that its enough that he’s safe, but I know he wants to see him and apologize.  Explain himself.  Richard loves his brother, he didn’t abandon him!”  Gavin said.

All Hank could do was talk to Connor.  He would let the kid know that the choice was entirely up to him, but he would tell him everything.  His brother never stopped trying, his brother tried to find someone good to find him, and his brother was the reason Hank was there to yank him out of there.  In Hank’s opinion, he deserved a chance.  Connor might not be ready to forgive, might not ever be ready, but Hank still thought Nines, or Richard, deserved a chance at it.

He picked up Connor from work the next evening, a late shift for him but Connor was excited for the new experiences and new training he was getting.  He took Connor to get pizza at a quieter restaurant, dim lights, nothing really to overwhelm him.  He let Connor have his pick of anything he wanted.

“Is there a special occasion?”  Connor asked when the drinks and bread came.  “Because I passed my GED test two weeks ago.  So it can’t be that unless you’re running late.”

“I actually wanted to talk to you.”  Hank said.  Connor wiggled in his seat, scooting up to sit a bit straighter to listen.  “Reed found your brother.  Now I know you don’t want to see him and I won’t make you.  But you should know that apparently he’s Reed’s secret source and everything he did to build up this investigation was to prepare to get you out of there.  You said he promised to send someone, I guess he had Reed send me.”

Connor stared at him, brown eyes looking impossibly dark in the dim light of the pizzeria.  A black, blank gaze as he processed everything Hank had said to him.  He tore a breadstick into pieces with his fingers, leaving a mess of crumbs on his plate.

“I told you I didn’t want to find him.”  Connor said.

“I know.  He found you first.  And if I understood it all correctly, he’ll back off if you still aren’t ready to see him.  I think you should hear him out though.”  Hank said.

The pizza came.  Barbeque chicken.  Their mutual favorite, or at least Hank’s favorite and one Connor didn’t argue over.  They both reached out and grabbed a slice.  Neither of them ate yet.  They just stared at each other over the food.

“He found me first?”  Connor asked.

Hank nodded.  “He found Reed, told him everything.  The whole reason any of this is happening is because Nines found Reed.  The case was built based on what he told Reed.  All the arrests, the people rescued and sent to Jericho, everything.  Because Nines told Reed and Reed investigated.”

Connor listened, his fingers picking at his food.  “Where is he now?”

“Apparently he and Gavin are… involved?  I don’t know, they just live together.”  Hank said.  He was the first to lift his pizza too his mouth.  The air was tense between them, but he wanted the pizza while it was hot and fresh.

“Is that far?”  Connor asked.  Hank shook his head.  “Well, we should take the pizza to go then.”

“What?  Why?”  Hank said.

“He clearly wants to talk if he sent you to ask.  He’s close by.  North would probably want to see him too and it would be cruel of me to keep them apart.  Let’s go now, before I change my mind.  I want to hear what he has to say to me.”  Connor said.  His face was pinched and his whole body stiff.

He looked angry, conflicted and terrified.  It was one thing to not want to find someone who he felt betrayed by, and another thing entirely to find out they lived a few blocks away and also that they had help set up the investigation that saved him.  Hank felt bad for him, always overwhelmed by free will these days.

Connor was deathly quiet as they packed up their pizza and got back into the car.  His lips were pressed together so tightly and his jaw clenched tight, physically trying to stop himself from changing his mind.  Hank drove to Gavin’s apartment building.  He got out of the car with Connor, watched the kid flick his quarter in the air again and again as the numbers on the elevator ticked up and up.  He put a hand on Connor’s shoulder as they walked down the hall, feeling the tense muscles.

Connor stood outside Gavin’s door, staring at it.  He was shaking, Hank squeezed his shoulder, and they waited.  Connor had to be the one to knock.  They had come the short way here from the pizza place, but if Connor didn’t want to knock then they weren’t going to go in.  If Connor wanted to change his mind at the last possible moment, Hank was going to support that without complaint.

“We could go home.  Put on some movies, cuddle with the dog.  You can go to your room and eat pizza in bed and play on your phone if you want, or we can take it to the park.  Let Sumo run around.”  Hank offered Connor a way out, the simple knowledge of a choice.

Connor reached up and knocked.

Reed opened the door, in an old shirt with all the letters faded off of it and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  It was only three in the afternoon, Hank was in the mood for a nap as well.  He took a moment to look at the two men at his door and his eyes widened in surprise.

“You actually brought him?”  Gavin said.  Hank just nodded.  “Richard!  Are you decent?”

There was a small pause before another voice called from somewhere else in the apartment.

“No.”

Reed opened the door wide anyway.

Had Hank met him on the street, there would have been no question who he was.  He looked exactly like Connor, his face, the way his eyes widened in tense fear when he saw Connor and Hank at the door, being ushered in by Gavin.  The eyes were different.  An intense blue, they were piercing and analytical.  His hair was neatly combed back, where Connors had cowlicks and strands out of place despite trying to look neat.  He was so much taller than Connor, his body built with strong muscle, instead of this skinny kid Hank knew.

“I… I told you I wasn’t decent.”  Nines, or Richard, said.

He really wasn’t.  He was in boxers and a red t-shirt with elmo on it.  He had a bag of cat food on his hip and three crying balls of fur at his feet.  Connor’s body was stiff, he took small steps into the apartment.  He was still terrified, though Hank took one look at Connor’s twin brother and knew that they both deserved to be heard out.  There was no one in danger here.

“Yeah, time to get over it though.  We have guests.”  Gavin said.

“I told you not to.”  The brother said.

“Well, I did anyway.  You’ll get over it.”

“I have a question.”  Hank said, cutting in and raised his hand slightly in the air.  “Do I call you Nines, or Richard.  Because Richard is a normal person name but before yesterday I assumed your name was Nines.”

The man looked at him, his expression blank, the stare in his eyes firm as he looked Hank over.  He saw Hank’s hand on Connor’s shoulder and let the stiffness in his shoulders relax some.  “Richard.  I haven’t been called Nines in a very long time.”

“Why?”  Connor asked, breaking his silence since they had left the pizzeria.

“They were looking for me.  If I called myself Nines, they would have found me.”  Richard said.

“I know they were looking for you.  You think I didn’t know that!”  Connor snapped.  He held his arms close to his chest, the coin held tightly in his fist.  “Why Richard?”

Richard shrugged his shoulders.  “Social worker gave it to me when they picked me up off the streets.  I told her I didn’t have a name.”

“It didn’t occur to you to tell her about me?”  Connor asked.

“I did tell her.  I told everyone.  The people who listened always said things were out of their hands, there was too much information missing.  No one knew what to do with anything that I said.”  Richard said.  He was perfectly still, his eyes sharp and he gave Connor every bit of his attention.

Connor took a few steps into the living room, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.  His eyes were wide ashe looked around the room, at everything on the walls and pictures and knickknacks.  “Do you know what they did to me after you left?  They brought me back and never sold me off property again.  They never let me out.  I was trapped there and they could do whatever they wanted and they did, every moment of every day.”

The silence fell heavy and Hank had to turn and look at Reed, wondering if he should stay for support or give these two a moment to talk everything out.  He didn’t know what Connor wanted right now.  He stayed rooted in spot, watching the two of them.

“I am so truly sorry.  It doesn’t matter what happened to me and whatever guilty I have.  I had a good life after it all, the first thing I should ever do is apologize to you.”  Richard said.

“Connor, are you okay?”  Hank asked.

Connor looked back, twisting around quickly as if he was surprised they were still there.  “Yes, Hank.  I’m fine.”

“Okay.  Do you want me to stay or…?”  Hank said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.

“Oh?”  Connor asked.  He looked back at Richard, then back at Hank.    He seemed to take the two men, weighing the situation and then himself to see if he was ready to have this conversation at all, let alone by himself.  “Go on, I’ll be okay.”

“If you’re sure.”  Hank said, taking a single step back towards the door with Gavin in tow.

“I am.  He won’t hurt me.”  Connor said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably not the full close ending everyone wanted, but to be fair its not really over. The story is over but for the characters things probably won't settle down for years. Those brothers might come together after a few very long conversations, but not right now.
> 
> The kids are alright.


End file.
